


December Drabbles

by CDSTACK



Category: Indivisible (Video Game), Skullgirls (Video Game)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 68,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CDSTACK/pseuds/CDSTACK
Summary: A whole bunch of holiday/winter drabbles leading up to Christmas, featuring favorites from beloved Lab Zero games Skullgirls and Indivisible. Some fun, some dumb, some part of a bigger story, but all of them I hope to put you in a festive season. All requests from the wonderful people on Discord and /lzg/ on 4chan. Go pay them a visit, and if you want, show Lab Zero some cheer by supporting Skullgirls and Indivisible! Happy Holidays to all!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Thorani and Anon's Night In

>The darkness of the den envelops on all sides, the air still and thick with the onset of the weight of winter. The only sounds you can hear are the muffled howls of the wind outside through ice-burdened trees and the cracking of icicles snapping against the iron clad roof of the Teotul above your head.  
>The only things that drown out the war-cries of winter is the sound of cackling fire, and the clattering sounds of the kitchen just behind you. The orange and gold tongues of the fire lick and dance against the clay of the chimney behind you, sparks mimicking the flurries just outside the window to disappear into the funnel above. The radiant heat draws you closer, and the intoxicating aroma of the agarwood tri-pod burning in the center fills every corner of the house.  
>Your eyes grow half-lidded, the weight of the blanket and quilts draped around you provide some comforting shelter from the cold, and the darkness that rolls in early this time of year always makes you feel kind of tired. Your feet in their fur-lined slippers you brought from the market down in the Port tap against the fabric of the couch, and the cushions and pillows beneath you shift and rock like ocean waves with every motion, as if to lull you into that seductive embrace of sleep…  
>”Anon? Anon, dear, do you still want this chocolate?”  
>Thorani’s voice rolls out from behind you- not loud, but in the way that gets your attention. You don’t even have to look behind you to know she’s standing right there. Her voice has that unique ability to wash over you and draw you in, like a spirit pulling your very soul towards her with just a whisper.  
>”Yeah, yeah, I’ll try some, yeah …” You slur, half-mumbled as your head lifts from the crook of the couch cushions. You lazily roll your head over to her, watching as she steps out of the light of the kitchen, her figure bathed in the glow of the lanterns. In her hands, she carries a serving tray, upon which is an ornate kettle designed with oil and dye paintings of devas and human figures circling the width, with steam pouring from the nozzle, and two small mugs.  
>Even from the distant as she walks, you could make out that warm smile, that inviting motherly smile, painted so sweetly on her brown lips, which itself radiates brighter than any fire you could imagine. As she walks over to you, you see her robe- a beautiful silk and gossamer robe made with fabrics shipped over from some place so exotic no one could really pronounce the name- sway over her long legs as she strides gracefully towards you, and the hints of the….more personal attire beneath it peek through.  
>”Ah, I was worried you might have fallen asleep! And here, you promised to keep me company!” Thorani laughs in that motherly, soft way that seems to fill every room with light and warmth, setting the tray down in front of you on the table. The deva looks at you with that smile again, seeing you all wrapped up must be adorable for her to see.  
>You chuckle softly, sitting up to see what she brought out for you and her to share. The sweet aroma of chocolate- heavy, rich, thick- rises from the thin vapor of the steam that rises from the kettle. It’s a special sort of chocolate drink from the Iron Kingdom, really light despite it’s thick aroma, and creamy. Nuna had raised the cocoa beans herself in that huge wild garden she kept in the bamboo greenhouse out in the back of the dwelling, and you had helped her harvest them to make for last night’s dinner.   
>You normally would be asleep right now, curled up in a warm bed, buried away from the winter cold. But, tonight, Latigo, Zebei, and Dhar had gone hunting, in order to get a roast or a type of game for the holiday dinner coming up, and they had been gone all day.   
>And despite everyone saying they would be fine- Tungar pointing out that Latigo, despite his age, could handle himself with even just a few bullets in his gun- Thorani, being the team mother, was still worried and had volunteered herself to wait up for them.   
>And you, being the nice guy you are, volunteered to wait up with her. You know, keep her company.  
>You always wanted to be seen as nice at least, especially with everyone else, and especially more so with Thorani. You’ve seen plenty of strange things from this group- the legendary sports star Hunoch using his twin brother’s ghost as a ball to practice with a woman that seemed like she could crush you with just two fingers, a woman in a dead tiger pelt who once tried to use you as a medium to summon ghosts, or demons, or whatever she said, and even an islander girl who carried a massive chainsaw with her and a little farming girl who once, right in the eye, told you to feast on the blood of your enemies.  
>They were a…weird bunch, yeah. But, honestly, you enjoyed them, and you hoped they enjoyed your company too. You helped Ajna practice with her axe skills, and she taught you proper meditation and tai chi, and something with another Incarnation she called “Kayla” or “Kara” she had. You helped Nuna harvest her crops as much as you could, and she taught you how to grow your own indoor garden with just a few empty boxes and a handful of soil. You helped Latigo clean and maintain his guns, and he even showed you to how to, uh, “spin the wheel”, which if it wasn’t for Latigo wrestling the gun away would have taken everyone out in a 2 mile radius. You helped Zhara re-strum her guitar-thing?- and she even played a song for you to show how wonderfully you did it. And, you even bonded with Tungar- albeit the two of you sitting together having only a few words to exchange every few minutes didn’t count, but Ajna said that was the most conversation anyone ever had with him.   
>And Thorani…heh. Thorani was such a sweetheart, and you said that in the way you’d talk about your mother, you know? Always so warm, so compassionate, so caring…she was the few among them to give you a chance, to at least prove yourself. And she showed you nothing but the same care she would show to everyone else. When you once cut yourself helping was Roti, Thorani simply smiled, took some of her magical waters and let you soak your hand in it, until the scar was healed. And when you went to pay her, she smiled and only said that your health was enough to make her happy.  
>Maybe that Baozhai woman had reason to like her- although if Thorani knew about it, was more or less up for debate. You were still surprised that she liked you, at least enough to accept you  
>As Thorani sat down beside you, pouring you a mug of chocolate, you couldn’t help but see her robe swing open. Black, laced lingerie, decorated in a pretty rose pattern with frills around the cups and a thin sheet of fabric to hide her stomach and hips away. It wasn’t that she was trying to show you it- perhaps you read too much Thigh Krung stories- but you couldn’t help but blush. And the way she crossed her legs as she offered you your mug, well, the room felt much hotter now to you.  
>But, it was the way she looked at you as she offered you your drink. Her voice sweet and calm, motherly and gentle, her smile that painted on her brown lips curled so invitingly and gently that you couldn’t help but to feel safe and know everything was okay, the way she looked at you with such support- not pity or scorn- but sympathy, as if with just a look, she places a hand on your shoulder, and tells you that everything will be okay.  
>At first, you’re a little shy to talk to her, considering how…well, attractive and kind she’s been to you, that you almost worry about messing up in front of her. But, Thorani’s words of encouragement help you on- how she gently squeezes your hand in hers, cups your cheek, and even ruffles your hair. It makes you blush and get all flustered, but it helps you to relax, and soon the two of you are talking like old friends.  
>Through out the conversation, you notice Thorani shiver a bit- her robe might not be the warmest thing how cold it is. You offer her your blanket, but she politely declines, insisting that your warmth is enough to keep her comfortable. But, as time passes, she eventually looks to you with a bit of a blush on her face.  
>”Anon…if it’s not too much to ask, may I share your blanket? That is, if it’s not going to make you uncomfortable or anything…”  
>You swallow your awkwardness and smile at her, gently lifting the blanket up for her to slide under. Thorani quickly does, resting her tall, curvy body up against yours.  
>Despite what she says, she doesn’t feel cold. She feels rather warm. Her brown skin nuzzles against your own skin, letting it share her natural aroma of perfume and oil, the aroma of jasmine and jade that rises from her gently damp hair. Her robe is sheer and soft, you could feel the lacy pads of her lingerie beneath it as she slips against you. Her feet, tucked into their silk slippers, gently brushes on your feet, her toes on yours, rubbing through the silk.   
>You look at her, your face all red, concerned if you should move a bit to give her some space. As you gently adjust yourself, you stumble over yourself clumsily, and land face into her.  
>More accurately, into Thorani’s rather ample chest.  
>Her warm, perfumed, soft chest, somewhere that feels so inviting, how the fabric of her lingerie move on your cheeks, the comforting warmth on your face…  
>No! No, you quickly pull away, stammering and babbling awkwardly, terrified that Thorani would have thrown you to the ground.  
>Instead, she only giggles and smiles, letting a hand run through your hair nice and slow in those delicate strokes  
>”Oh, Anon~! Don’t be ashamed~! If you’re cold and need me to hold you, I’d be more than happy to~!”  
“H…hold me, Thorani…? Uh, I…I…”  
“Come now, even Baozhai enjoys a warm hug from me every now and then! It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”  
>As she opens her arms to you, you can’t help but nod in agreement. It is cold as…uh, it’s too cold to even draw a comparison. You slowly lean in and gently rest yourself against Thorani’s front, letting her arms wrap slowly around you until you’re all nice and tucked in close  
>”There, now, does that not feel better?” Thorani says with a giggle, letting an index finger curl around your hair as she holds you close.  
>Well, of course it is much better, and you only respond with a simple nod and a bashful chuckle. As admittedly sexy this is, it’s more or less more comforting then sexy. Like, the way she holds you tight, how she strokes your hair, it’s just so soothing and relaxing.  
>Your own arms gently move to wrap around Thorani as well, to which she responds with a soft sigh of comfort, resting herself into your arms quite nicely.  
>”Mhm~…this feels so nice, Anon. You’re rather warm, like a big stuffed toy!” She giggles at this and hugs you tight, nuzzling her chin on top of your head. “If you’d like me to hold you tighter, feel free to say”  
>”S..sure, Thorani…and thanks, heh, this does feel really nice actually! I was worried that you would…ahhh…”  
>Your yawn finishes the end of your sentence. The warm chocolate drink sloshing around in your stomach, and the scent of the agarwood and Thorani’s perfume, is really making you feel even more tired. That, and being snuggled by Thorani isn’t helping you stay awake either.   
>Thorani giggles and smiles wider, gently playing with your hair as she sees you yawn, watching as your head falls back into her chest. Her arms pull you in a bit tighter now, and the blanket seems to envelop around you more and more.  
>”Tired, dear?” She coos, her voice as soothing as her fingers running through your hair. “Well, if you’re tired, I can’t keep you awake. Even those who are grown still need their sleep~”  
>”Ah, Thorani…I can stay awake a little longer…I don’t wanna leave you alone…”  
>”Dear, just holding you like this is enough to make me feel complete. Just having any of you, even you, with me by my side is all I could need”  
>At that, you blush even brighter and nuzzle your head into her robe- the sweet perfume and oils adding to the seductive lullaby of sleep calling to you.   
“You’re so sweet, Thorani….Ajna told me you’d be a great mom…”  
>As soon as you say that, Thorani holds you even tighter, and you feel a pair of cool, damp lips, as if they were stained by the surface of water, press gingerly to your forehead as she holds you. The feeling of those cool, yet warm, lips replace by a feeling of something wet on your forehead, and the aroma of perfume once more washes over you.  
>”Well, I can be a mother to all of you, little dear~….rest your head and get some sleep~. I can’t have any of my little darlings being tired, can I~?”  
>Thorani giggles again, kissing your forehead once more before, in long slow strokes, moves her fingers up and down your head, letting her digits curl through the locks of your hair.   
>You chuckle softly, and nuzzle closer into her. At this point, she could have been wearing nothing at all, but you could have cared less. All that mattered at that point, was Thorani just holding you, keeping you warm, and making you feel safe.   
>Eventually, as your eyes start to grow heavier, you hear the soft vibrations of music tickle your ear, as if someone was humming right against your eardrums. It’s Thorani, humming to you softly as she holds you, her melody gentle and joyful, hushed and soothing as everything she does. She closed her eyes in comfort, her hands still running through your hair as she sips her chocolate, a mother tending to her child, making sure they were safe.  
>What happened after that was quite literally a fade to black. You must have fallen asleep, and for who knows how long. The only thing you see when you wake up, and feel, is Thorani’s chest nuzzled into your face, and her arms still wrapped around you.  
>And, the sound of someone snoring.   
>Looking up, illuminated by the soft cackles of a fading fire, you see Thorani’s head slumped over on yours, fast asleep. Her hair obscures her face and falls over your shoulders, her lips vibrate with the soft purrs of sleep as she rocks and turns gently.  
>She must have fallen asleep a bit after you did, you wonder. It was a shame she slept like that, holding you so close while sitting up- not that it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t what she deserved. She deserved to sleep in her own bed.  
>Slowly breaking yourself from the last lingers of sleep, you slip- rather reluctantly- from Thorani’s embrace and wiggle yourself free until you’re standing up. Carefully, you slip your arms under the sleeping deva and, in one great pull, lift her up bridal-style.   
>Hoping you remember the ship’s layout well enough in the dark, you walk out of the common room, and down the hall, past the rows of personalized doors- Ajna and Razmi’s door covered in tribal marks and pictures of slime (or hopefully just pictures), past Hunoch and Xiboch’s room with the trophy engravings, left at Dhar’s room with the simple sword and soldier figure above the frame, and finally at Thorani’s quarters, with the beads that hung down in front of the door.   
>Slowly and quietly, with the skill of a certain ninja down the hall, you crack open Thorani’s door and slip inside, balancing the sleeping woman in your arms as you carry her to bed. The bed she sleeps in is has those canopy covers that surround it, like a royal bed you’d see in old picture books, with the fancy engravings and stylized canopy top with the mural of Mt. Sumeru covered in devas in celebration.   
>A perfect bed for such a woman to sleep in.  
>Open the canopy, unfurl the blankets, and by the grace of Kala herself, slip Thorani into the sheets. You do this with such skill and grace that you feel like a surgeon, watching as her head fell against the pillows, and the waterbed mattress gently stopped swaying.  
>Pulling the covers up over her, you whisper delicately into her ear, as if it would be a message for wherever she was in her dreams.  
>”Good night, Thorani. Have a great sleep, Mother”  
>And, just as you slowly tip-toe out of the room, you could swear you see Thorani smile widely in her sleep.  
>You spent the night waiting for Latigo, Dhar, and Zebei for her. They came back around 11, covered in snow and carrying their game, which Leilani would use for the holiday dinner. As soon as they were in, you called it a night and went to bed yourself  
>But, for some reason, without warm arms around you, you found it kind of hard to sleep at first.  
>When next morning rolled around, and you were helping to clean up after breakfast, you would feel that same warmth around you again, and Thorani’s motherly coo whisper into your ear.  
>”Thank you for carrying me to bed last night, Anon. I had no idea I had fallen asleep myself!”  
>”Ah, no thanks needed, Thorani. Hey, you would have done the same for us, right?”  
>Thorani, with a smile that read “Now you’re getting in”, gave you another warm hug and gently kisses your cheek again, staining it in a dark brown chocolate shimmer of lipstick to adorn your now budding red cheeks.  
>And what she said next, well, it was enough to make your heart melt.  
>”And just remember, if you ever need help falling asleep, I’m always happy to share my bed with you, little darling one~”


	2. A Retelling of A Human Jubilation Miracle- By Robo-Fortune

[this poem has been generated using robo-fortune visual-to-text function. Location of text: director brain drain’s personal computer. File to be destroyed to prevent copyright fees and to “preserve the decency of poetic structure”. Number of copies made in case of sudden destruction: 4. If any outside copy is found please bring to anti skullgirl lab zero for free medical surgery. Any lab zero employees are to remove this post from computer database and report for immediate debriefing.]  
[poem title: A Retelling of Human Jubiliations at Lab Zero- by esteemed poet and mechanical superior-being Robo Fortune]  
>T’was the Night Before Human Jubilation Season, and all through the Lab   
>Not an experiment was stirring, not even Brain Drain to order us and gab  
>A multitude of report sheets were hung above Valentine’s desk with complete uncare  
>With hopes that the Director would lay off her, for she had little emotional strength to bare.  
>Experiments all nestled all cramped in their dorms  
>From Subject Painwheel punching holes in the drywall, to Subject Fukua, teasing schoolboys with lewd calls.  
>And I, in my Lab Zero-Designed Artificial Intelligence Containment Unit, and the Director in his bunk  
>Typing his biography, as the “intellectual hunk”  
>And Valentine curled up in her dorm, reading up on her original issues of Canopy Medical School Love!  
>Because she said reading the dub is something she’s above  
>When out on in the lobby, there came an indescribable sound  
>Like a zeppelin that had just run aground, or a certain organic feral stuck in a pound  
>I climbed out of my Unit and raced into the lobby  
>Crashed through the door, and saw a man humans would describe as being quite “jolly”  
>He was as obese as can be, and had an unkempt white beard  
>And eyes so wild, he looked like someone small children ought to have feared  
>He carried over his shoulder, a sack I could see, filled with shiny and sparkling things he wanted to show  
>Like a man when he sees Valentine, the sack was about to “blow”  
>The intruder identified himself as “Saint Nicholas”, and that he was “here to bring us Christmas merriment and joy”  
>Although, according to Lab Zero rule number 1933, paragraph 5, Saint Nicholas should know that “any sign of unseasonal, or unreasonable joy is a sign to be marked as an unemploy”  
>The obese man let out a “HO-HO-HO” type of human laughter that sounded akin to what Fukua calls Valentine behind her back, and he reached into his sack  
>While I warmed my internal defense systems, he told me he had something special in his sack  
>The intruder identified as Saint Nicholas turned to me and handed me his surprise  
>A real Coding Cat Action Figure, with Computer Tape Yarn and Binary Coding Purrs and Cries  
>It was what I had asked the Director for multiple times.  
>But always could never retrieve it, for it would be annoying and too expensive to buy  
>The intruder even claimed to have presents for the others as well  
>A rose garden starting kit for Subject Painwheel  
>For Subject Fukua, a new cellular phone with a case for her to conceal  
>An eastern kimono-style of dress for Valentine to wear  
>And, for reasons unknown, a bag of heavy black coal for the Director, on this my processers swear  
>In the depths of my coding, my fiber optics trembled, and my synthetic pump jumped  
>My eye-lens started to flicker, and my ears began to quiver- was I in the midst of an error-occuring slump?  
>In my databanks, I could only record that this feeling was known as the human emotion described as “a feeling of gratefulness and warmth in one’s heart”  
>Better known to those who can’t comprehend as the feeling of “Joy”, if such emotions could not be taken apart  
>The intruder chuckled in his vulgar laugh, and told me that the season is about giving to others, and not what someone puts into you with an keyboard and a book  
>He even told me that, if my networks would allow, I could come with him and help spread the cheer, so I may see Christmas with a whole new look  
>For a moment, I stood, puzzled and confused. Was this man truly the Christmas demi-god known to small children as Saint Nicholas? Was he here to teach us the magic of the season?  
>Or, perhaps, was I suffering from that whack to the head with a half-full soda can Painwheel threw at me, for this to be the reason?  
>Upon reflection, I closed my eyes, and considered my options, and all of the legends and myths I have heard so far  
>It was then I realized something that made my sensors go “ajar”  
>This man was demonstrating knowledge of Lab Zero classified information, and as such, was deemed the enemy of the ASG Labs  
>For who knows what this ghastly elf-man could say if he blabs?  
>With the speed and grace of a perfect machine, I leapt at the intruder, and threw him into the air  
>Between his shouts of “Put me down, you oversized tinker toy”, I showed the emotion of stoicness and strength, warming my Alpha Catastrophe Cannon emitters without a single care  
>In a moment, and with the screech of beautiful photon emitters reaching max heat, the fat Saint Nicholas disappeared in a flash!  
>Leaving only the scent of perfectly cooked meat behind, and his comically oversized sash  
>Upon hearing the commotion, my room…er…co-work…uh, “subject experiments less perfect than I” rushed into the room  
>Displaying the common human emotions of fear and uncertain doom  
>When they saw the smoldering pile of beard hair and ashes on the floor, they all cheered and gathered around me with excitement and delight  
>The Director proudly commended me for my ability to survive, claiming his greatest achievement was my ability to fight  
>Employee Valentine only smiled and stated she might as well quit and go back to her high school job as a manga store cashier   
>Subject Painwheel swooned against me like I was a “boy band heartthrob” and said, and I quote, “If I was as perfect as Robo-Fortune, maybe my parents would have bothered to look for me!”  
>Even Subject Fukua said she would re-add me to her Social Media pages, and not block me for sending messages about asking if she could change my oil!  
>In fact, the Director even announced that he would build a hundred other copies of me, and that the employees and experiments would be subject to hours of brutal and intense toil  
>Everyone all cheered and carried me to my dorm, where I put on my best “Christmas-Themed Seasonal Software Update” and handed out the presents left behind by the now-exterminated Saint Nicholas.  
>And later that night, as my sleep program overpowered my line of sight,  
>I refer to all organic and inorganic subjects reading this to “Have A Wonderful Time of Human Jubilation and to Have a Good Night”  
>END OF FILE.   
[Director’s Log: What Subject Robo-Fortune is so, er, “diligently” explaining in her report is the incident that occurred December 23rd of this week. It appears a “Mall Santa” from the Meridian Grand Plaza, in a heavily inebriated state, wandered through the broken backdoor entrance- which I explicitly told Valentine to fix! (and the question as to WHY we have a backdoor still goes unanswered)- and stumbled into the lobby. Robo-Fortune, being wired to act as the line of defense, is hard-wired to the security system and went to attain the situation. Although we had only arrived minutes after the alarm went off, we found Robo-Fortune playing with that ridiculous Coding Cat toy in a pile of ashes, and a sack of cheap mall toys scattered all over the lobby. Had Subjects Painwheel and Fukua clean up the mess, while Valentine and I had to review the log as shown here- in between my completely reasonable and sensible lecture as to how her ignoring my orders can lead to the Lab’s secrecy and intellectual properties being stolen. Either way, I’m writing this to remind myself that I have to get around to removing the Visual-to-Text function’s poetic format. I mean, look at this! No use of meter, no use of scale, she even rhymes “bag” with “bag!”, for Goddess’s sake!]  
[Director’s Log Cont: Anyways, no damage done to lobby. Save for smell of burnt hair and for strange reason cooked venison. Tell Valentine to lit a few of those Eastern incense things she had in her dorm- and yes, Valerie, we ALL know you’re buying those- and update Robo-Fortune’s programming as soon as possible. I’m not an artist of writing, but still, an intellectual such as myself should have some respect to the written word. Log Incident 135-45, filed under “Attempted Break-In”. Will store and review for yearly inspection this December 31st]  
[P.S. Figure out what Robo-Fortune knows about my autobiography, Can’t have that getting out]


	3. Jingfei's Gift

>Jingfei is, by all accounts-or at least her account- is a good apprentice  
>Sure, she may spill some volatile chemicals here, or accidentally throw out a hundred year old manuscript because she thought it was a used napkin there, or she may sing in the shower too loud every so often.  
>But, still, she is a good apprentice- hard working, devoted, reasonably intelligent and in her own words- the cutest apprentice Angwu has ever had  
>And, if anyone was to ask, you could say she’s got a pretty big heart.  
>That very big heart was the reason why she was currently hovering down the streets of the Port city, head half-buried in a long list of questions, options, and crossed off little doodles, her floating chair dodging in and out of crowds of sailors, purveyors, and the occasional solider from Iron Kingdom.  
>She was on a mission today, a mission so important that it outweighed her usual weekend plans to try out her new explosive chemical formula- this time with less than a 50% chance to wipe out the Tower of Wisdom, may you be reminded- and maybe even catch some lunch with that cute delivery boy Grimm….  
>But, her mission was clear, and she had to get it done by today, or miss out on her chance forever  
>She had to get Angwu a holiday present this year  
>Yes, that’s right. She had to get Angwu- the woman known for her almost impossible to crack glare of discontent and exhaustion, the woman who would yell at tourists and sailors for loitering around the Tower, the woman who would say “No, Jingfei, I swear on all known deities if you set that bomb of yours off in here you’ll sleep in the dumpster outside”, the woman who…  
>Okay, you get the picture.  
>Yeah, Angwu could be kind of…overbearing, but hey, wasn’t every genius scientist and scholar like that? Like, the tortured soul of genius, struggling to understand the simple minds of their peers while dealing with knowledge incomprehensible to the normal mind?  
>Or, you know, something like that  
>Weaving between the crowds through the hustle and bustle of the mid-day market rush, Jingfei looked up from her list- a mess of choices and options that she had spent all week trying to put together, composed of gift ideas that Angwu would like. She was lucky enough to convince Angwu that they needed a reserve of extra ink to complete re-transcribing a book on astronomy in theology, or whatever it was she needed done, and as such decided to use the time to go do some shopping  
>”Would she want a new bookshelf….nah, we got a hundred of them in the attic….maybe a bottle of Port Sea Wine….wait, she never drinks so….”  
>Jingfei would mutter to herself, scrunching up her little freckled cheeks in confusion as she would flick off options with her pen.  
>For as much research as she put in, it was hard to figure something out. And believe you me, she put in the research!  
>Observing Angwu when she worked- which basically was her sitting in her study writing long equations on her wall-sized chalkboard or mumbling to herself as she copied text from dusty manuscripts.  
>Taking notice of her habits to see if she had any secret hobbies- see above  
>She even asked Ajna, who came by every so often, to help since Angwu knew her father perhaps she would be more open to Ajna- family things and all  
>But, that resulted only in Angwu telling both girls to not worry about her private life and focus on their destinies and own lives instead of bothering her about her’s.  
>So far, the only things Jingfei had been able to come up with were generic gift ideas- stuff like bottle of wine, a new book, maybe a sewing kit- after all, how old was Angwu anyway? Wouldn’t old people like to sew?  
>But none of them stuck.  
>And so, with time before the holiday’s end growing short, Jingfei had steeled her resolve to find Angwu at least something nice she could have  
>Something that would make Angwu smile  
>Something that would prove how good of an apprentice she was  
>Something to say thanks for taking her in and giving her a chance  
>Something to…  
>Whatever Jingfei was thinking stopped as she smelled the pungent aroma of tea leaves simmering in the air- the aroma of spice, mint, oolong, blackberry, all mixing together with the familiar sound of hot bubbling water in a huge iron kettle  
>Across from her, nestled in a huge stand surrounded by patrons, was a tea market stand. Its thatched bamboo roof containing banners that advertised a huge sale to celebrate the season, with beautiful women in sheer gossamer robes and rather curvy figures offering free samples of tea to a few rather drawn customers, some hanging out by the counter gossiping, others ordering bags of tea to take home, and some slyly gazing at the saleswomen through less than sly glances.  
>Huh. Tea’s usually a good gift. Who doesn’t like tea? It’s sweet, it’s warm, it’s relaxing- and Kala knows Angwu NEEDS to relax  
>Shuffling through the crowd of people- or in her case, hovering- Jingfei found herself at the back of a line of people, all lined up to get a free sample. It wasn’t a long line, but the way the old man at the counter was moving, well, she would be here a bit.  
>Now, Jingfei didn’t fear- for you see, dear reader, Jingfei had a very unique talent that she herself had mastered under the time of Angwu’s mentorship. Something only Angwu herself could resist  
>Her cuteness  
>Fluff up her emerald green hair, fix her mortar hat and give the lantern on it a little shine, puff out her cheeks so the freckles will stand out, maybe bat her eyes in that swoony way she saw that Baozhai woman do with that water deva the last time Ajna was there.  
>And bam. With just one look, she could make anyone like slime in her hands.  
>And if that didn’t work, well, she had a few explosives in her pocket to cause a distraction, but that was a back-up plan that wouldn’t make Angwu, or the Port Authority, pretty happy. And believe her, Angwu was much more terrifying than any two-bit port guard with a harpoon.  
>Getting herself all ready, Jingfei looked up to the woman in front of her, and put on the show.  
>” Excuse me, ma’am…” Jingfei’s sweetly bashful voice cooed out, putting her white gloved hands on her cheeks for extra cuteness. “But, may I ever so please get ahead of you? I don’t mean to be rude, but…you see, my mother only wants some tea for her birthday, and if I’m not back in time, it’ll ruin her whole day! Please, find it your heart, you seem ever so sweet”  
>A moment later, the woman was wiping tears from her eyes and standing aside, letting Jingfei through the line ahead.  
>And, hiding her snicker of delight from the patron’s eyes, Jingfei with her batting eyes, fluffy emerald curls and scholarly smock, managed to slip her way up to the front of the line.   
>Good thing too, if she had to make herself blush some more she’d bust a blood vessel  
>Jingfei searches through the menu of tea flavors, thinking about what Angwu would like. She doesn’t look like the person who drinks sugary stuff, or the person who likes really bitter stuff- despite first impressions.  
>After a few moments of consideration, Jingfei places an order for a bag of gunpowder green, oolong, peach blossom, and Darjeeling, which she read up on a medical report on teas that help increase longevity that Angwu had her transcribe.  
>With the box of tea bags in hand, and the money paid, Jingfei headed back down the crowded market street, slinging the box into the satchel on the back of her chair.  
>But as Jingfei hovered along, the thought that comes to mind of anyone whose bought a dear friend a present came into her mind, something that planted itself deep in one’s brain and infests it with thoughts unheeding until the person is in confusion  
>Doubt  
>Would Angwu even like this? Jingfei thought, her fingers spinning the gyration control on her chair in nervousness, her chair rocking from side-to-side as she did so.   
>Yeah, everyone liked tea, but Angwu, well, Angwu wasn’t everyone of course. Would she even like the flavors of tea she gave her? Would she take a taste and spit it out, or just leave it in the cupboard in the kitchen next to Jingfei’s prohibited “super-spice” jar and old bread so moldy it could have walked out on it’s own?  
>And there was that one time last month that Jingfei bumped into Angwu while she was researching, and spilled some of the tea onto her robe, leaving an ugly brown stain on it that dyed the light blue cloth so deeply it left traces even after Jingfei scrubbed it clean  
>Reaching back into the satchel, Jingfei looked over the ornate box of tea, with the golden ribbon and dark blue linen cover around it, and its pungent aroma.   
>It was a nice gift, sure  
>But it needed something to go along with it  
>Tea biscuits? She could get them from the few stalls that catered to the Iron Kingdom royals when they passed through. Nah, Angwu didn’t like them- said they got too many crumbs everywhere, and were too sticky to eat  
>Maybe some new perfume? Surely smelling like musty old books and…uh, old woman (?) wasn’t enough for even her to stand. Scratch that, Jingfei remembered when she brought in some perfume once and it almost stained a back copy of an ancient Lokian epic.  
>Jingfei rubbed her chin in thought for a moment, the firecrackers going off in her head in thought, her feet tapping against the brass of her chair in long slow sways back and forth…  
>Until, as if one of those firecrackers went off louder than the rest, she snapped her gloved fingers together in glee  
>Of course! Angwu would love a new pair of shoes. While Angwu wasn’t exactly the up-to-date on fashion, be it from this century at all, some comfortable new shoes would be great for when she’s walking around and rearranging the shelves, right?  
>Recalling there was a cobbler down by the wharf, Jingfei threw her chair into overdrive, and like a tiger-wearing shaman seeing slime soaked sheets, sped off down the clay streets, beneath the colorful turrets and minarets, down the earthen steps towards the harbor, and hung a sharp left with such skill that in another world, a pro skater wiped his tears in pride.   
>Hovering herself up through the door of the cobbler, Jingfei slapped the sack of money on the counter and rang the little bell, until a stout, short-mustached man that reminded her of one of Ajna’s friends, walked up to the counter.  
>The cobbler showed her the brands of shoes meant for easy walking, such as a pair of shoes made with what he described as “breathable” threads, a pair of shoes built on a platform that made Jingfei think they were just normal shoes glued to a block of wood, and even a pair of sandals designed to “caress the tender foot and all it’s little toes”- or something along those lines.  
>Jingfei thought for a moment, considering what sort of fashion sense Angwu would have- or if she had any at all, before reaching into the purse, slapping gold coins onto the cobbler’s hand, and pointing to the shoes with the thread.  
>After all, Angwu wouldn’t want any dumb platform shoes. And the idea of seeing her bare feet was actually kind of vile in some way, but let’s not get into that.  
>Placing the shoes into her satchel, Jingfei decided now was finally the time to head back to the Tower, and get her gifts ready. She would have to hide them somewhere Angwu would never look- the back of her bed, that one part in the attic where the floorboard was ripped up, maybe under the steps…?  
>In fact, Jingfei’s face was lighting up like a firework just thinking about it. The look of surprise on her face when she would open the present up, and see a box of fine tea and special shoes just for her.  
>Well, she’d probably not be able to see it, considering the weird robe thing going on, but she’d like to imagine it  
>As the warm sea salt kissed air rolled in from the waves below her, Jingfei gave a content sigh as she let her chair coast along the wharf, admiring the little collection of surprises she had with her  
>For all of her sternness and crankiness, her brashness and somewhat rudeness, Angwu was a good woman at heart.  
>She remembered first meeting her that cold night, when Jingfei had nowhere else to go, when all she had was a beat-up chair and a few clothes on her back.  
>Angwu found her sitting outside the Tower, half-asleep on her chair on the front steps, wrapped in a mish-mash of scarves and blankets.  
>For a moment, Jingfei thought she was going to tell her to beat it, and go sleep under a rafter somewhere  
>But, instead, Angwu simply motioned inside and in that stern, yet sympathetic voice, helped her up onto her chair proper.  
>”Why don’t you come in for the night, kid? I don’t do this lightly mind you, but…I can’t have you sitting out here like this. Look, you can sleep in the spare room, but again, only for tonight? You hear me? The Tower of Wisdom isn’t a child’s playworld, so tread carefully!”  
>It was there, for the first time, in a long time, that Jingfei actually had a good meal- some noodles, and some steamed vegetables with crow’s meat- and slept in a warm bed.   
>And to her surprise, Angwu hadn’t kicked her out as soon as the sun came up. Sure, she wasn’t throwing her arms around her getting her to stay, but it seemed she understood her…predicament at the moment.  
>Crossing the steps back to the main street, Jingfei drifted along the sidewalk, skillfully dodging the rows of people around her, ignoring the sound of shopkeeps advertising, the gossip of daily life, and the aromas of sea salt, fish, tea, and other foods and goods being shipped around the Port  
>It was that same morning, that Jingfei had found Angwu hunched over her study, busily sorting through an equation on explosives and charges- and for some reason she didn’t know at the time- a picture of Mt. Sumeru, and several key areas.   
>Angwu was upset about her being in her study, saying that “she couldn’t risk any child touching their dirty hands on her precious books”, but agreed that when she was finished, she’ll take her to the children’s home just outside the Port, where Jingfei would at least be looked after  
>Jingfei mostly sat on her chair, watching Angwu mumble about chemical formulas before tossing a sheet of crumpled up paper littered with crossed out formulas and symbols into the trash bin, before she turned to her and shook her head.  
>”Ugh, I’ll take care of it when we get back. You, get your things together. If we don’t leave soon, the home will be closed for the evening. And I can’t have you staying another night”  
>It was then Angwu left to get ready, her ink-stained desk with all its papers, quills, books, papers, and manuscripts standing beckoning to Jingfei’s eyes.  
>And Jingfei, well, Jingfei didn’t want to tell the woman who had taken her in that she kind of liked explosives. The way they sounded, how they worked, how the smell was so powerful and rich, and the power behind them, how they could solve any problem you could think of!-that needed explosions at least  
>And she knew she was told quite specifically not to touch anything, but…well, curious is as curious was.  
>Even among the roaring crowd, Jingfei could hear how loud Angwu shouted when she found her at the desk, scribbling formulas for a cool new bomb on the paper, and how she picked her up and almost threw her across the room in a panic.  
>Wasn’t exactly a family memory, but still  
>How angry she looked as she yelled at her for messing with her work, how afraid Jingfei felt when she saw Angwu glare at her with those beady eyes behind that cloak, and then…  
>Then…she heard Angwu reading her notes. How her voice dropped to a quiet whisper, as if she was surprised by what she was reading. Jingfei watched as she looked back and forth her desk and at her, before writing something else down on the paper and nodding, whispering something that could be made out as “that’s….actually correct.”  
>Then, Angwu knelt down in front of her, placed a hand gingerly on the shaking Jingfei’s shoulder, and sighed in guilt, before holding the paper to her face  
>”Did you write this?”  
>”Y…yeah, I did…”  
>”Do you know what any of this means…?”  
>”Yeah…nitroglycerine goes really…really well with that type of chemical. Any other catalyst would cause the explosive…to, uh, to…back-fire”  
>”Huh….how did you know that?”  
>”I…I just do…I guess…”  
>Angwu was silent for a bit longer before standing back up.  
>Her voice was different then, quieter, stern, but somewhat more gentle.  
>”Alright, you could stay for one more night. If you agree to help me with some of these formulas. I’ll be keeping a strict eye on you, alright? No funny kid business, or you’ll go to that home faster than Indr’s mouth after…you know what, I’m rambling. Here…just…just go and unpack, and meet me back here in an hour, okay, Jingfei?”  
>And a few days later, Angwu had asked Jingfei if she wanted the position of being her apprentice. Someone to work with her. Someone who had to take plenty of notes. Someone who had to be ready to learn and ready to adapt that knowledge into such extreme memory you could rewrite the history of Tai Krung into ancient tongue and back.  
>And…and with tears in her eyes, Jingfei agreed….  
>Bump.  
>Bump?  
>Jingfei jumped up a bit, shaking herself out of her reverie. Oh Kala, did she hit another person? She just cleaned her chair of blood last Saturday and she couldn’t have another drunk sailor waving a bottle…  
>Oh wait, no, she just hit the steps outside the Tower of Wisdom, haha.  
>Carefully moving up the steps and going to the door, she took the heavy iron clanger and knocked it once, waited a few seconds, and then eight times in quick succession- the secret code to enter the Tower, or at least let Angwu know who it was.  
>”Who is it?”  
>”It’s Jingfei, Miss Angwu!”  
>”Oh! You’re finally back! Come on in!”  
>The door creaked open, and Jingfei maneuvered her chair inside, letting the familiar smell of ink, gunpowder, and knowledge-if knowledge even had a smell- wash over her again.  
>Angwu was sitting at the base of a tall bookshelf in the corner, surrounded by old tomes and textbooks, and a small handcart beside her. Doing her usual daily cleaning, it seemed.  
>She looked up at the floating chair-girl as she rolled in, getting up to greet her in the same lovable Angwu way  
>”You’ve been gone for three hours. And the printer’s shop is just down the road. Did you get distracted by those kids with the fireworks again?”  
>”Uh, no, not today, Angwu….I was actually just, well, getting some stuff”  
>”Stuff? What do you mean by stuff? Oh, if it’s another alley cat again…”  
“Angwu, please! It’s…it’s nothing bad…just let me show you…”  
>With that, Jingfei opened her satchel and handed Angwu the box of tea and the shoes.  
>”Here…these are for you. They were meant for the holiday but…well, you probably woulda found them anyway, right?”  
>Silence  
>”These…these are for me…?”  
>”Yeah.”  
>”Huh…let’s see here… Port Maerifa Deluxe Teas…and new shoes…huh…”  
>”Well…do you like them?”  
>Again, silence. Angwu stared quietly at the gifts, before letting out what sounded like a soft chuckle. A chuckle? It was soft, but from Angwu, laughing was as rare as seeing Miss Baozhai not in the bars on a weekend  
>”Hehe…yeah, I like them. I have to admit, my shoes were kind of running down to the heel, and I’ve been meaning to have a good cup of tea. These are really nice, Jingfei. Thank you”  
>A thank you? From Angwu? Now that was even rarer.  
>Jingfei smiled widely, her lantern lighting up as if in tune with the glee she felt, her freckled cheeks sparkling so adorably they could have popped right of her green hair-draped face.  
>”Aww! I’m so glad you like them, Angwu! I saved up all my money to get you something nice so, well, just to say thanks…thanks for everything, Miss Angwu”  
>Angwu let out another soft chuckle, walking over away from the bookshelves and set the tea and shoes down on the study table, admiring them all over as if in amazed delight.   
>Just as Jingfei began to turn away to go back to her room to resume her work, she was stopped by Angwu.  
>”Hey…Jingfei?”  
>”Yeah?”  
>”You know….this weekend, the Port’s throwing their big annual holiday festival for the Winter Solstice, right? The ones with the fireworks show on Saturday?”  
>”Yeah, happens every 17th of the year. Why?”  
>”Well, I was thinking….maybe you and I could go. It wouldn’t hurt to take a bit of a break, right?”  
>”A break? But, Angwu, you said that those festivals are loud and annoying, and that we can’t rest because you’re worried Ajna might screw up again and…”  
>”Yeah, yeah, I know. But…maybe Ajna would be okay for just one night? And besides, I had her father and mother as friends, believe you me, they were just like her at one point.”  
>”So…you’re saying we can go?”  
>”Yes”  
>”Are you serious?”  
>”Jingfei, I lost my ability to tell jokes a LONG time ago. Now, do you want to go to it or not?”  
>”Of…of course! I’d love to!”  
>”Great! Now…what are you doing sitting there, gawking? You still have a textbook to summarize, you little firecracker”  
>”Oh yeah! That! I’ll get right on it!”  
>”As you would. Dinner will be ready at 5, wash up before then and we’ll talk about this weekend later. Now, I have to get back to work myself. You made me mess up my alphabetical order…”  
>Jingfei smiled again, and thinking about the festival, with its food, and it’s fireworks, and the music, she began to head back to her dorm. Should she let Ajna know? She would probably love to have everyone over, if Angwu would allow that.  
>And, as Jingfei took one last glance back towards Angwu, sitting on her stool, surrounded by books, she watched as she took the shoes and slipped them on, inspecting them before giving an impressed nod before heading back to work.  
>And, in that moment, in the darkness of her hidden face under that cloak  
>Jingfei could swear she saw Angwu smiling.


	4. Contiello Hospitably

>Christmas, as anyone could tell you, is a time about tradition, and a time filled with traditions. You know, decorating that big sweet smelling Christmas tree with peppermint sticks and colorful ornaments of sentimental value, baking all sorts of delicious foods from tender roasts to sugary cookies, and of course, spending time with the ones you love.  
>And, as anyone else can also tell you, Squigly is a big fan of keeping up tradition.  
>She loves nothing more than to decorate from the holidays, from covering her crypt in Christmas lights so bright it would even annoy the dead, to baking plenty of cookies and pastries to send out to her friends- to the point you could probably live off the amount of cookies she sends alone- and of course getting to wear big fluffy sweaters with fun holiday sayings on them. Her favorite being one that has a zombie in a huge pile of scarves reading “Don’t Get Frostbite!”  
>But, sometimes, even the most seasoned of holiday celebrators require help- and that’s where you come in.  
>While of course you’re more than happy to go help Squigly as soon as she called you up, you also had another small problem to deal with.  
>You were sick  
>Sick as in coughing, having a stuffy nose, and having that terrible feeling of being cold no matter where you were.  
>But, you managed to hide your cough under the guise of having swallowed a soda down the wrong tube, and agreed to be over as soon as you could.  
>Hey, it was Christmas, the time of giving to your fellow man. And for Squigly, who every year invites you to her Christmas dinner no matter what and always gives to you-recalling how once she personally sent a heartmelting rendition of Happy Birthday to you on your birthday along with a handsome new coat, well, you would suck up your cold and go help her.  
>After bundling up and walking through the bitter cold, snow and slush laden streets of New Meridian to the graveyard, all you could think about was getting back to some place warm. Because there’s nothing better than trying to hide a stuffy nose while ice cold wind whips at your face like an offended woman at a bar.  
>The cold soon melts away as soon as you get to Squigly’s crypt. She opens the door to you and warmly beckons you inside.  
>Her smile, warm and inviting that matches the sweet singing tone of her voice, is enough to make you melt into a warm puddle of mush  
>As soon as you get inside, you’re ready to get to work, although Squigly has kindly made you complimentary tea and fresh cookies for you to enjoy, which you-unfortunately but politely- refuse. After all, you don’t want to seem rude being unable to eat them because of your sickness, right?  
>You and Squigly get to work on setting things up, and despite your illness, you power through it for her.  
>It’s not very hard work, considering she has Leviathan for the real heavy lifting, but with your cold, it feels harder than usual  
>Your hosts, however, make it easy to focus and not get caught up in your cold. There’s something wonderfully alluring about the way Squigly talks, how she acts towards you. Her voice is gentle and soothing, with that rich and flowing echo to it that drapes over you, how Leviathan’s voice is suave and smooth, radiating warmth and sophistication just as his mistress does. You feel comfortable and at ease beside them, even if you’re sick.  
>And the stories she tells you are fascinating as well. When you’re stringing up Christmas lights, or getting out holiday throw pillows for the couch in the den, it’s just good to hear her talk about…anything really. How she loves the invigorating aroma of peppermint from the scented candles you help her set up, the huge parties the Contiellos used to throw back in the day and donate the funds to the local children’s hospital, or how she really wants to get Filia and Carol these two matching sweaters, but worries if it will seem kind of cheesy- you can’t help but listen  
>You do take care to hide your sickness, since you don’t want to make her feel guilty you came over to help. You muffle your coughs with yawns, you deal with your clogged nose until she’s out of the room, and you put on your best “not sick” voice, doing your best to power through it.  
>Everything seems to be going well, and you’re almost done decorating. As soon as you help Squigly finish setting the dining room, you’ll head home and crawl back into bed.  
>You mainly put all of your attention from being sick to focus on helping Squigly, setting up the table with a fancy new tablecloth, or getting the fine china out from the cabinet to set up in the cupboards  
>You do get the feeling Squigly knows something’s up- she asks if you’re feeling okay, since you’re walking a bit funny, and you seem to be out of breath, but you pass it off as just being too hot or at the worst, you’re just a bit lightheaded from all the work.  
>And you feel like you can get away with it- you know she doesn’t like liars, but this isn’t anything like lying to her to steal from her, but it’s just a polite white lie, you know?  
>And you would have gotten away with it too.  
>That is, unless you didn’t suddenly feel faint and stumble through the place like a stereotypical zombie, coughing and moaning in a daze as a wave of nausea washes over you, until you fall face-first onto the couch.  
>Squigly immediately comes over to help, helping you to sit up right on the couch and taking off your winter coat you were wearing, asking you what’s wrong  
>Finally, you confess to her. You say that you haven’t been feeling well, but came over anyway to help, since you didn’t want to let her down  
>Now, Squigly is mad- well, not mad, but somewhat disappointed that you lied to her about not feeling good, and she does that cute little pout where she puts her hands on her hips and looks at you like an angry cat would do.  
>But, she can’t be mad for long, since after all, you did come over to help, and you only lied in order to make her feel not guilty about it, so she admits she’s rather touched that you came over in your state.  
>Although she firmly reminds you not to do that again, as you could get incredibly worse from overexerting yourself in such a sickness, and that two dead people probably wouldn’t be the best thing anyone wants for Christmas  
>Squigly then has you lie down on the couch, and covers you with two nice warm fluffy quilts, and fixes your head against a nice soft pillow, letting you relax until you can at least move again.  
>While you’re relaxing, and trying not to cough your lungs out, Squigly fetches you some tissues and some cough medicine, the one that tastes like “cherry”- you known the kind  
>At first, you don’t want her to fuss about you, saying that you can just go home, but the singer points out that, from what she saw you do, it wouldn’t be right to let you go home until you’re at least feeling better, and any attempt to talk her out is stopped when she slips a spoonful of the medicine into your lips, and the taste of faux-cherry clears your throat of words.  
>Squigly then says that she’ll make you some dinner, and after that, you can head home- she has a special recipe for soup she wants to try, and this way, you can have a good hot meal to make you feel better  
>And, honestly, that doesn’t sound so bad!  
>Before she goes, Squigly takes the little portable TV out from her room and sets it up in the living room for you to watch, setting it to the local news, also leaving you some light reading material- such as Meridian Music Monthly or Gothic Gazette: Skulls Still in Season?- and a nice cool towel to rest on your head while she goes off to prepare dinner.  
>You have to admit, you do start to feel a bit better. Squigly does know what she’s doing, it seems. A warm quilt, some TV, and the promise of a nice cooked meal already perks your spirits up.  
>Also, the sound of Squigly humming along to the kitchen radio echoing into the living room is enough to lift your spirits alone  
>The news switches to the local weather, and a chipper weathergirl in a Santa hat talks about a huge snow front coming in tonight, and that it’s gonna be a doozy. You know, couple feet of snow, freezing ice, maybe a sprinkle of hail, all the fun stuff  
>Squigly apparently hears this on the radio too, and she comes out looking concerned.  
>She asks you, if you’re comfortable, if you’d want to stay here tonight at least, and you could head home in the morning when it lets up.  
>You think it over for a moment- go back in the midst of a snow squall, to your empty apartment and heat up some canned soup before sleeping on the couch to infomercials for Annie merch, or stay here with your good friend, stay warm, and enjoy some company while you fight off this cold?  
>Yeah, option B sounds better  
>You agree that you could stay the night on the couch, if it’s not a problem for Squigly  
>With a wave of her hand and a smile, she brushes those concerns away, and invites you to stay in her cozy graveyard bunker as much as you need to.  
>With a warm smile of relief, you let your head sink back to the pillow, wipe your nose clean of snot, and pull the quilts up, letting the sound of Squigly’s singing and the local sports fill the air, along with the aroma of the soup she’s cooking  
>After a bit, Squigly returns with a serving tray for you- a bowl of freshly prepared chicken noodle soup, with some fresh cut bread- that really good crusty bread- with butter, and a cup of hot spiced tea to help you relax  
>It looks and smells absolutely delicious  
>You and Squigly sit together in the living room enjoying your meal, and some nice conversation. Squigly seems happy to have company, even if it’s someone sick, and you’re happy to have the company with her too.  
>After dinner, Squigly tells you she’ll draw you a nice hot bubble bath, which will take some of the normal aches and pains of being sick away.  
>The bath she draws you is wonderful- special salts in the water, rejuvenating bubble bath, cleansing oils, even a nice massage pillow for you to rest your head in.  
>It’s the best bath of your life- the hot water swirling around you, the sweet scent of bubble bath, the neck massage tickling at your neck…  
>You fall asleep in the hot tub, at least until Squigly peeks her head in, and the two of you share stammering blushes as you try to cover yourself  
>But aside from that, Squigly leaves you a nice purple robe to wear, and some fresh clothes to wear under it- gym shorts would substitute for normal underwear, right?  
>She even lets you have some of her perfume to use, just to get the scent of sick of you. And you better believe smelling like grave flowers is better than smelling like sweat and snot  
>After dinner and a hot bath, you climb back onto the couch, where Leviathan is using his tail to heat some tea, and Squigly is plating a small selection of ice cream for you and her to enjoy.   
>That good holiday exclusive ice cream- hot chocolate flavored with peppermint swirl.  
>As you eat though, Squigly moves over to the couch and gently lets her head nuzzle on her soft lap, giggling sweetly as she watches your nuzzle drowsily into her own robe.   
>She explains that she knows what it’s like to go to sleep sick, all stuffed and hard to breathe, and when used to get sick, her mother used to sing her lullabies and tell her stories to help her relax.  
>Although you’re too old to have rhymes of Mother Goose sung into your ear, Squigly decides to sing you some Christmas carols or tell you some stories- and to you, that sounds like one of the most relaxing things in the world.  
>Seriously, you could listen to hear read the phone book and still feel relaxed  
>As the taste of peppermint ice cream and evening tea kiss your lips, you hear the sultry and sweet sounds of Squigly’s voice whisper into your ear. Her dulcet tone matches the gentle rhythm of Jingle Bells, or the crooning lusciousness of I’ll Be Home for Christmas, or her nostalgic, warm voice describes to you scenes of old stories from her life or just general stories she remembers, from rolling valleys topped with snow-tinted trees as her family took on a sleigh ride through the Canopy countryside to a friend’s house, or a beautiful villa filled with people way back when the Canopy Kingdom was simply separate nations under few flags, where music and tradition lived free under the Yuletide season  
>And, as your eyes slowly drift to sleep, and the drowsiness overcomes you, you swear you feel her skeletal, yet delicate fingers, roll through your hair and her lips gingerly, in their soft and stitched warmth, press gently to your head before the aroma of her perfume and music carries you away into sleep  
>When you wake up the next morning, head still throbbing and nose still stuffed but now clear enough to breathe without sounding like a dying pig, you shuffle off the couch and walk into the kitchen  
>Squigly’s there, in her “Kiss the Ghoul” apron, busily making a light breakfast of fresh toast with honey butter and marmalade, tea, and some fresh winter fruit  
>She sees you and smiles widely, asking how you are before offering you a small platter to indulge yourself in  
>The taste of honey and fruit is wonderful to your sleep-lingered lips, and you say that you’re feeling plenty better thanks to her.  
>At that, Squigly throws her arms around you in a warm hug, and she joins you in breakfast.  
>You say you’ll head back home after this, and give her a break from taking care of you- at saying that she’s a wonderful nurse, she blushes all red until her cheeks turn purple, and she bashfully waves you off.  
>True to your word, despite having a few sniffles and coughs, you slip on your old clothes and coat, and give Squigly a hug as thanks, which she happily returns  
>As you’re about to head out, the opera singer asks you if, health willing this time, would be up for helping her, Filia, and Carol get the Christmas tree this weekend. After all, what’s Christmas without a tree?  
>You don’t even hesitate to say yes.  
>With that, and both of you wishing each other good health and see you later, you climb up the steps, into the crypt, and still smelling of grave flowers and peppermint, walk back into the fresh snow of New Meridian, humming Christmas carols as you wipe your nose clean  
>Hey, Christmas is all about giving, right?  
>And sometimes, there are special people you, well, want to give more of than anyone else in the world.


	5. Time of The Season: Part 1

The noises poured in all around her. Muffled, but still audible. Zhara strumming away to sheet music, sometimes going fluidly for a few moments before stopping in an awkward twang, and the following soothing tones of Yan encouraging her on. The sound of pots and pans clattering around, echoing distant voices of Leliani and Nuna in the kitchen. Even the sounds outside of her window, which she hoped would be frozen quiet by the winter chill outside, flooded in. Ajna and Phoebe against Hiboch and Xiboch, and Tungar due to Xiboch’s “condition”, in a snowball contest, shouting, laughing, sometimes even swearing. The laughter of Thorani and Baozhai from the steps, one nuzzled against the other as they drank cocoa-albeit one cup laced with vodka to give it an extra kick. Even the howling laughter, that cackle of delight, that belonged to Kampan as she and Naga Rider raced down the snow-covered hills on the lid of a trash can Kampan picked up from some dirty alley. Latigo, Dhar, and Zebei had gone hunting for dinner- although heavens know if those three would be able to bring ANYTHING back- and as far as Razmi knew, Kushi was in the living room with Lanshi, taking care of snowbirds that she had been training, with the big mutt sitting by the warm fire, Roti sleeping on the soft fur of his back. Hell, even the hiss of steam from the shower where Ren was sounded too loud- maybe that was fortunate, who know what that guy was doing in there.  
The house, and the world entire, seemed to buzzing with excitement. Lights, candles, the music, even the people seemed to get more lively. Even after the whole Kala incident, and everything else that befell them, the world still found it possible to slip it all aside for a bit and just let the familiar pangs of tradition, the ability to just soak in nostalgia and let it overtake the present, wash everything away.  
And, nestled away in her bunk, her cold room, lit only by the soothing warmth of that familiar lantern and the embrace of a tiger's paws, was Razmi, buried in a tomb of blankets and pillows like a vampire away from the sun.  
Now, don’t get her wrong. It’s not that she hated the holidays- her hearts wasn’t that black and cold, or at least not yet. It was just, well, the overbearingness of it all. The pressure of being with people.   
Being Razmi, she normally enjoyed the company of herself and Bom. The sound of a cackling fire, the roar of the wind through ancient trees, the croaking of frogs by the mud-filled ponds, the song of birds screeching above green canopies, the uncaring presence of nature that left her alone to herself. It was something she was used to, something that allowed her to be herself and to let only Bom, nature, and the fire be witness  
And now, here she was, shacked up with everyone. Far away from her shack, from the quiet stillness, from the solicitude, surrounded now by noise, voices, music. The scent of cooking, the sound of music, the barking of dogs, the quarrels, the laughter. And to be quite honest, it WAS growing on her  
Not by a lot, mind you, but it was strangely comforting to at least be with people as strange as her in some way. If everyone was weird, then no one was weird, right? Or at least was Ajna said.  
But, this whole holiday nonsense. The whole pressure on being together. That if you didn’t have one member of the family with you, or that you weren’t tapping your toes with bells on your heels, you were some kind of lonely weirdo. Sure, Razmi was with people- but she could leave at any time she wanted, that was different.   
To have a choice in the matter was one thing. To be constantly glared at and judged, especially just one time out of the year, was another thing.  
Besides, there was something faux, fake, about the whole shebang to Razmi anyway. There was a lot of terrible things in the world- imperialism or whatever Dhar had referred to it as in his discussions in politics with anyone who cared enough to listen, violence, hate, addiction, corruption, monsters.   
Why then, was the only solution society seemed to accept, was to pretend everything was fine and just drink and be merry when they should have been doing what Razmi did and hiding out in isolation to ride out the end?   
What music could help bring people of poverty wealth? What food was good enough to make someone’s pain stop? What celebrations, what gifts could be bought and celebrated to make the evil of the world go away?  
To Razmi, it was all just a bunch of bunk.  
As such, as anyone would do with a bunch of bunk, she had wisely at least in her case, buried herself under the blankets, with Bom on her head and curled up with a good book on ancient spirits and horror she had snagged from the last time her, Thorani, and Zebei went to Iron Kingdom for some supplies.  
The air in her and Ajna’s room was still, warm, quiet- a far cry from the noise outside and inside. Her lantern gave her warmth and light, Bom gave her comfort, and the pillows she took from Ajna’s bed below hers gave her plenty of support.   
Now, if she could only find that slime she made yesterday when Leliani was out of the kitchen she’d be in business. Maybe she left it in Dhar’s bed again, or maybe Roti ate it thinking it was food…?  
“Razmi? Hey, Raz, you in here?”  
The sound of Ajna’s voice made her jump, that and the sound of Ajna, in all of her energetic glory , kicking the door open with the fury of a wildebeest. Turning her head to peek out of the shell of pillows her head was buried in, the shaman looked out to see her companion climbing up the ladder to her bunk. Ajna’s face was covered in frost and bits of snow, her cheeks red from exhaustion, and her voice half-muffled from the scarf she wore around her face.   
Answering with the warmth and compassion she was known for, Razmi looked to her friend with a empty, tired glare, her pale skin contrasting against Ajna’s brown, bright skin, and her eyes as cold and as still as the tiger she was wearing on her head.  
“What?”  
“Leliani and Nuna just finished making dinner.” Ajna poked her leg, pulling the scarf off and tossing it onto her bottom bunk. “Do you want to come down, or just stay in here all day?”  
There was silence, as if Ajna just realized who she was talking to.  
“Okay, don’t answer that”  
Razmi gave a smirk- out of everyone, Ajna was the one who understood her, at least enough to not be freaked out by her. Sometimes.  
“Is that all? I’m kind of in the middle of something”  
“Well…” Ajna pulled herself up a bit more, sitting herself at the top of the ladder, looking at Razmi now through the pillows. “You’ve been in here all day. Any other time you’d at least be out to grab some lunch with us”  
“Not in the mood”  
Ajna huffed- she did know Razmi, and her surly yet charming attitude that both could delight and terrify you if you weren’t prepared. And she knew she wasn’t all smiles and optimism, of course. Razmi was the kind of person who liked to be alone, who enjoyed her space, that was understandable  
But, lately, she had been acted more…unusual, even for someone like her. When the holidays started, Razmi seemed to get more withdrawn and more moody. Staying in her room more, acting more annoyed whenever anyone asked what she wanted to do, even when they offered to take Razmi out to see the bonfires the Port held for the week of Remembrance- and anything with fire on a scale of near-insane proportions would be enough to make Razmi sweat with excitement- she didn’t want to even see a single tongue of fire from it.   
“Look, Razmi, what’s wrong? You’ve been all depressed ever since the whole Season began. You know, moody, sarcastic…”  
“Your point being?”  
“Well, see, it’s just…you’ve been like that more than usual. You don’t want to do anything with us, all you do is lay around and sulk in bed!”  
“So? I did that most of the time before I met you”  
“Razmi…” Ajna shook her head. “you know that’s not what I meant. This time of year is supposed to be a time where everyone gets together and celebrates, the time of New Life, the time of Rebirth, all that stuff. Even DHAR’s acting more charitable! He didn’t even complain when you put that snake in his drawer! Well, complain less than he normally would but still…”  
“Ajna, listen, holidays just aren’t my thing” Razmi lifted herself up, like a vampire rising from a coffin. “All the getting together, all the noise, all the…cheeriness, it’s all fake anyway”  
“Fake? What do you mean, Razmi?”  
“Fake, as in, everyone acts like nothing’s wrong, that everything’s all fine and dandy. The whole Kala thing a few months back, where you disappeared for, like, a month, remember? How can everyone forget when she almost destroyed the world?”  
“Oh please, Razmi. The important thing is that we stopped it. That’s what people celebrate. Sure, it may have been my fault, er, well kinda….but the idea of Jeevan Ka Mausam is to celebrate the past, present, and future! Even if Kala got out, we stopped it, and now we have a better future to look forward to together”  
Ajna gave her friend a warm smile- one of those charismatic smiles that attracted just about everyone to her. Her warm golden brown eyes shimmering, she placed a hand on Razmi’s leg, supporting herself a bit more.  
“Yeah, I understand the holidays aren’t for you, but why not come and just enjoy it? It’s just like hanging out with us normally, just more parties and religious stuff.”  
Razmi shook her head, letting herself fall back onto the pillow, holding Bom on her head so she wouldn’t let him fall back between the wall and the bed.   
“No, Ajna, it’s just…forget it, you don’t understand, okay? It’s…it’s just a bunch of nonsense, and I’ll celebrate it like I celebrated my birthday”  
“Getting drunk off that spiked punch Baohzai made for you and flirting with all the guys, and a sack of potatoes you said was better than Dhar?”  
Razmi scowled, resisting the urge to throw a pillow at Ajna. Or, more accurately, the urge to set the pillow on fire first and then toss it at Ajna. She wasn’t in the mood to joke around.  
And, for the record, Potato Dhar was a dear friend of the crew and much more welcome in her book than regular old Dhar.  
“Ajna, just…just get out, okay? Don’t make me burn your bedsheets again”  
The tone in Razmi’s voice let Ajna know she was serious. It wasn’t smart to piss Razmi off when she was moody like this- or generally any time really. But, when she was like this, she would be more than happy to torch everything in a blaze of magic-fueled flaming destruction.  
With a sigh and a flick of her hair, Ajna shrugged and slipped down the ladder, turning to the door. Before she left, she took one last glance at Razmi before walking back outside.  
“Finally. Now….” Razmi smirked softly and resumed burying herself into the cave of pillows, opening the book once more to the story on soul-sucking vampires from across the desert. “Back to bed”  
The rest of the evening was uneventful, at least for Razmi. Someone brought her dinner and left it on the dresser beside the door. She heard the sounds of life outside the door- Hunoch and Xiboch in an argument with Dhar about Tlatchlibol scores, maybe Latigo and Baozhai were getting into a drinking contest, Ren was heard making a suggestive comment about being cold and wanting Thorani to give him some “hot water” or something that earned him a smack from Ajna, and Yan demonstrated how she could lit fifteen candles in a row with just one match using her feet in a spinning twirl.   
Sounded like everyone was having fun. Maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to…  
Forget it. Razmi wasn’t that type of girl, and she wasn’t about to start now. They could waste their time doing something silly like rites or setting off lanterns, or gorging themselves while pretending everything wasn’t falling apart around them.  
But still, she was feeling kind of hungry. And Leliani’s dinner, even when cold, smelled pretty good.  
Razmi grabbed the plate off the dresser and scurried back into her bunk, digging into the cold meal. Battered whitetail flank-cooked extra golden crispy, served with lemon and white wine pan sauce served over egg noodles and some sweet dough rolled in cocoa powder and fried. It wasn’t a bad meal to Razmi  
Sure, the fish tasted a bit funny but, eh, food was food  
A little bit after eating dinner, Razmi decided to call it a day. She was tired, and there was nothing else she wanted to do. Tomorrow she’d have to find her slime, maybe make some more if she could, or maybe do that summoning ritual she read about.  
With a tired, glassy stare on her face, wiping away the strands of raven black hair that fell around her face, and letting the warmth of Bom’s paws collapse over her chest, the shaman picked up her book and read through it again  
This part in the book was on a classic- ghosts. Something that maybe Xiboch would benefit from reading, that is, Razmi thought, if that meathead hadn’t pounded any sense of his and his brother’s brains out playing that dumb game. The chapter discussed at length how it was believed in certain cultures, certain spirits represented holidays and seasons- a woman in a long robe and tradition dress holding wheat represented the summer, an old man in a long white coat riding a glass horse represented winter, and strangely, three ghosts represented the Seasons of Life, described as the Spirit of the Life Anew, the Spirit of the Reborn, and the Spirit of the Eternal End, each wearing heavy robes and carrying strange objects, ranging from an infant wrapped in swaddling blankets, an iron ball, and a long, curved sword.  
They would have looked pretty cool anywhere else- but to Razmi, they were just another bunch of shams. If these spirits did exist, they would surely be doing something better, dripping slime all over the place or maybe even doing that cool thing ghosts do where they possess people and make them talk in tongues.  
Razmi didn’t bother reading on from there. The warmth of the bed and Bom’s fuzzy, dead paws, the full weight of the food in her stomach, and the softness of the awaiting bed soon drifted her to sleep.  
And, in the twilight darkness of the room, there was silence. A silence that crept from the room, from door to door, under walls and through cracks, through the packed living room and kitchen, the training room and the garden, and the bedrooms that would be full of life and noise.  
Until finally, there was nothing but darkness and silence.  
And Razmi slept on, unaware


	6. A Lab 8 Christmas Special

>It’s been a few months since Carol moved into Lab 8, a few months since she was rescued from her nightmarish struggle to escape Lab 0’s grasp.   
>She’s been doing pretty alright, sure the therapies and operations they’ve been doing have been helping, and Carol has been become a bit more outgoing. Helping Illeum help the children write letters to Santa (and sorting through Peacock’s list of demands she writes every year). Having Big Band teach her to play the cello. She even has Hive and Leduc show her the things she missed out on due to her “state”, stuff like movies, fashion, although maybe Hive’s influence of acting like a queen bee (at least the friendly way to put it) poses a problem of rubbing on Carol  
>But still, Carol feels beat up, to put it lightly. She feels like she doesn’t belong here, that she’s only here because they pity her, and that she’s still looked on like someone would look at a dying patient, with pity and faux charity only because they were dying  
>Obviously, this isn’t true, and Lab 8 wants to help Carol get over those fears.   
>An idea is that, since Christmas is coming up, they could throw her a surprise party, and give her their gifts for her there.  
>It’s a great idea considered by everyone- although Peacock has complaints that she never got a party like that  
>Until she’s reminded they did try to that, but she got overzealous with the fireworks and someone had the bright idea to have Stanley hide in the cake with sparklers, which in hindsight wasn’t the best idea  
>But, moving on. Everyone is split into two groups, each group to prepare a certain element of the party  
>Peacock and Big Band: Entertainment   
>Hive and Leduc: Food  
>Stanley and Dr. Avian: Decorations  
>Illeum and the Lab 8 children: Gifts  
>This sounds like a good idea- already, Stanley is suggesting using some of those old prototype lasers to make a sort of crazy Christmas light show and Leduc wants to try making something he read out of Canopy Culinary, maybe a roast turkey with apple and sweet potato filling perhaps? (much to Hive’s teasing of calling him a nerd and saying if he was half as good as he was at cooking he’d get a girlfriend)  
>Peacock and the Toon Gang are already putting on ideas for a “helluva show”, with Ben being there to keep watch and ensure she doesn’t cause too much destruction, and keep it holiday-themed  
>There is, however, a bit of a problem.  
>You see, Illeum is by all means a great mom (read: surrogate mom) but if you were to talk to Peacock, Leduc, and Hive, they’d all agree on one thing:   
>She has a tendency to be, well, a bit out of touch with what teenagers these days like  
>Sure, giving a jigsaw puzzle of honey bees would be nice for Amelia, one of the little Lab 8 girls, but for Hive, it’s a tender thought to be sure.  
>And giving Leduc a toy rocket with an astronaut that jumps out would be cool for Samuel, one of the Lab 8 boys, and maybe Stanley, but it’s just not what he’s into.  
>So, with politest respect to the meaty matriarch, they all tell Illeum that she needs a more “mature touch”, like say from a teen that’s close to Carol  
>And said teen just happens to be a girl with a hair monster on the back of her head  
>It takes a bit of convincing, and Peacock has to swallow her pride and say Filia isn’t that bad of a dame after all, but they finally allow Filia visitation access to the Lab in order for her “young and hip input in today’s fast paced go-go teenage world” (Dr. Avian’s words)  
>Filia arrives in the Lab and greets everyone warmly and politely, while Samson immediately takes one look at one of the Lab 8 kids and goes “What’s that thing?”  
>Long story short, after threating to buy the shampoo that doesn’t advertise “No-Tears” in it, Samson shuts up.  
>Filia is a great help to Illeum, helping her to find all the trendy websites online, and for the neat stuff kids these days shop for.  
>Although, Illeum is a bit choice on what Filia thinks is cool and what she thinks is a bit inappropriate, bless her.  
>”Filia, that woman is wearing a revealing Santa costume. It’s barely even a costume, it’s more like painted on. Is this really what you want to buy your friend? Perhaps something like a nice dress right here?”  
>”Miss Illeum, that’s a pop-up for a car dealer. The dress is what I want to get her”  
>”Ah. Wonderful! Carry on then”  
>The two however do pick out a bunch of nice stuff for Carol- special peppermint and marshmallow scented body wash, a make-up kit from Canopolis Royal Spas, a new winter coat and boots, and a box of assorted chocolates from Canopy Confections- the good stuff, with the gold tinfoil  
>Meanwhile, Avian and Stanley spend the next few weeks rigging up decorations and lights in the lab, hanging Christmas lights from the Theonite tank in the center of the lab, setting up the big plastic Christmas tree that sits in the main room, and by Stanley’s own pet project, creating that wicked light show  
>”Now, Avian, I admit I understand your concerns on the use of the lasers to create a lightshow. But, and saying this as a man of science, it would be…pretty sick”  
>”Sick or not, it still poses a great danger to anyone in the lab. Using prototype lasers and mirrors, who knows what could happen to any of the equipment, or worse, any of us?”  
>”With all due respect, I did the calculations and we’re in more danger sitting in a room with Peacock and a butter knife than any of these lasers. Now, please, hand me the particle magnifier and that hot glue gun”  
>Leduc and Hive, on the other hand, busily sort through recipes to make the Christmas dinner an absolute hit.  
>At least, Leduc is.  
>”This is so dumb! I mean, yeah, it’s for Carol and all, but still, why did we have to be put in charge of the food? Why couldn’t Big Band? He’s always talking about his “Mama Birdland’s soul food” or whatever!”  
>”Hive, just stop buzzing and help me out! They chose me because I liked to cook, and you because they saw you like those fancy dinners or something from Tweeter.”  
>”It was for the aesthetic! I don’t know how to cook! Why don’t we just call up those caterers from MadMan’s, and they’ll bring us food! It’ll save, like, a whole lot of problems!”  
>”I don’t think burgers and fries would make a good Christmas dinner, Hive. What would be good would be a big roast ham with brown sugar-pineapple glaze, or do you think a shrimp cocktail with balsamic and lemon?”  
>”I dunno. Why don’t you ask that body pillow in your room? You ask her everything.”  
>”Well, at least she listens! And it’s a Dragon Kingdom Sleep Aid, thank you! Even Miss Valentine has one!”  
>But, despite their arguing, Hive and Leduc do care about each other- and they care about the Lab as one big family, so they eventually decide to kiss (metaphorically) and make up to make a good dinner for everyone, at least just for the holiday  
>And of course, Peacock and Big Band have the job of entertainment.   
>Big Band already knows what he’s going to do- and that’s serenade the Lab 8 team with a jazz rendition that will heat up the ice-cold classics and put them dancing on the blacktop  
>Translation from jazz: he’s going to do a big band Christmas concert  
>It’s Peacock he’s worried about  
>Now, Peacock means well- or at least they say she does- but what she has in mind may or may not be for all ages. Or anyone except for her  
>”Calm down, Jazzman! It’s gonna be a Christmas show, I swear!  
>”Right…so explain to me why we need a crate of fireworks, the “really really big ones?””  
>”Theatrics! Sheesh, you of all people should know that!”  
>”And the giant slingshots?”  
>”Stunt work, Benny! Give the folks a show!”  
>”And where, pray tell, would we find eleven reindeer with one with a big freaky red nose?”  
>”I told ya! It’s for Christmas!”  
>”Alright, alright, little Ms. Al Columbia…”  
>It’s two weeks of hard-work, and even harder work distracting Carol from anything suspicious.  
>They could pass off decorating, but one of the kids could slip up with excitement  
>”Hey, Ms. Carol, you’re gonna love what we got…”  
>A hand quickly clapped the child’s mouth quiet.  
>”Hmm, what does he mean, Filia?”  
>”Oh! Uh…they just wanted to say they’re so excited to show them what they got for Christmas!”  
>Finally, after all the hard work, they’re ready to celebrate  
>Filia distracts Carol by taking her out for burgers and hot chocolate at MadMan’s, while everyone gets ready  
>At a phone call, Filia escorts Carol back to the Lab, where at the entrance, she has Samson use his hair to cover her face so she can’t see  
>When Samson lets up his grip, Carol sees her surprise waiting for her  
>Everyone is waiting in front of the Christmas tree, holding colorful presents both big and small, all marked with Carol’s name on it.   
>At a loss for words, the schoolgirl looks at all the gifts and everyone’s smiling faces.  
>”W…what’s all this for…?”  
>”It’s for you Carol!”  
>”Since it’s your first Christmas with us, we thought we’d give ya a real show stopper”  
>”Come on, ya walking pin…er, Carol. Open yer gifts so we can eat!”  
>Carol, surrounded by kids eager to get her to open their gifts first and all the scientists and subjects, opens her gifts, ranging from homemade cards the kids made to what Filia and Illeum picked out.  
>And with every gift she opens, her smile gets wider and wider, and her face gets as red as one of the shining bulbs on the tree  
>After opening presents, everyone sits down to eat  
>Leduc and Hive have managed to put together a huge spread- turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, sweet potatoes with whip cream, bread stuffing, cranberry sauce, a Christmas-tree shaped cake, and a pumpkin pie.  
>And a few bags of cheesy puffs due to an ordering miscommunication  
>During the dinner, Carol gets the first of everything- for what feels like in forever, Carol eats a hot fresh meal, instead of synthetic proteins she was fed at Lab 0  
>There’s laughter, talking, joking, flinging food, it’s just a big Christmas dinner  
>Except with more mad science and cartoons and hair  
>After dinner, everyone gathers to watch as Big Band moves their heart to the smooth saxophone of his renditions of I’ll be Home for Christmas or the dual-piano-cymbal rendition of Jingle Bells  
>And, of course, what Peacock has planned  
>It’s actually pretty cool and well put together, considering Peacock.   
>It is about Christmas, true. Although Christmas doesn’t include a wanton amount of explosives, cartoonish slapstick mixed with violence, banjo playing, and Andy Anvil doing stunts with the Toontown Swag Wagon  
>After the dust, smoke, and debris is cleared, everyone gathers in the main room to see the laser light show.  
>With a flick of a switch, a series of lasers carefully placed, shoot across the ceiling, bounce off the mirrors on the walls, bend in different angles to leave streaks of red, green, blue, and gold across the room, until they all converge on a single point- the star on top of the Christmas tree, lighting the crystalline star in a flash of colors  
>True to Stanley’s words, it’s pretty sick.  
>After the party, and deciding everyone else can open their presents tomorrow (with Peacock and Hive pointing out how Carol could, until Illeum cold-glares them with her cold beady eyes), Filia and Carol retire to Carol’s dorm.  
>All snuggled in cheesy, extra fluffy Christmas sweaters, with twin sweaters that form a heart on the chests, Filia and Carol snuggle up together and watch Christmas specials on TV, letting Christmas Eve night roll into Christmas Day morning.  
>Carol snuggles into Fil’s side, all cozy and warm like a cuddly stuffed teddy bear, getting all red as Filia snuggles and hugs her to her heart’s content.  
>”Oh, Filia…this was the best gift I could ever ask for. I was…was so scared you guys didn’t want me here…”  
>”Don’t be silly, Carol! Everyone loves you here! You’re always be welcome to any of us. In fact, I have my own gift I wanna give you…”  
>At that, Filia cups Carol’s cheek and pulls her into a gentle slow kiss, letting her soft lips melt against hers, while stroking through the silky brown hair of Carol’s bobcut  
>As she pulls away, Carol melts into her girlfriend’s arms, snuggling into her and the blankets all cozy.  
>”Merry Christmas Carol, babe~”  
>”Merry Christmas Filia~…I love you guys~…”  
>And, in the warmth of each other’s arms, in this hidden top-secret lab, Christmas Day rolled in, and the sounds of Christmas excitement took the morning as it did the night  
>And Filia and Carol watched on, snuggled in each other’s arms  
>For the first time, in a long time, Carol feels like she truly belongs


	7. Time of The Season: Part 2

It might have been the freezing cold that woke Razmi up. Or it could have been the taste of dehydration, that urge for special, delicious night water that even she couldn’t resist. Or it could have been the sound of something growling lowly into her ear.  
Or it could have been the sudden pain in her stomach that felt more like being drop-kicked in the stomach from the inside out.  
Yeah, probably that one  
With a low, almost evil groan of pain, Razmi rose from the blankets and pillows, resembling that of a zombie breaking out of their grave, stumbled down the ladder, and out into the pitch black hallway  
Between cursing Leliani’s cooking under her breath, and groaning in pain, the shaman walked into the bathroom, tore open the medicine cabinet and eyes the contents inside  
Latigo’s pills. Thorani’s vitamins (not that she needed them). Hunoch and Xiboch’s protein powders. Yan’s muscle relaxant. Tungar’s mustache supplements. Ginseng’s Herbal Mushrooms…  
Ah, there they were.  
Thank Kala for Ginseng’s natural remedies. These “wild red spores” or whatever she called them may have tasted like eating a piece of wet, salty grass, but they were great for stomach issues and other disgusting things even Razmi didn’t want to touch.  
A few minutes after chewing down the mushrooms, Razmi felt a whole lot better. The pain subside, but the taste of wet dirt still remained- although it wasn’t as bad a taste as you think at least to her. As the shaman reached for a glass of night water from the tap, she felt someone grab her waist quickly  
Without even looking back, she sighed and shook her head.  
“No, Thorani, I’m fine…no, you don’t have to sleep in the bunk with us to make sure we’re…”  
As Razmi turned around, expecting to find a worried Thorani in her bathrobe pulling her into her infamous vice-like hugs and trying to give her some healing hair water, she was surprised to find no one there. Only Bom’s paws laying limp on her waist, the tiger’s stare cold, unfeeling, still- dead as a doornail  
“Huh.”  
Peeking her head out of the bathroom, Razmi looked into the pitch black hallway. Now, a hallway being dark wasn’t strange or even uncomfortable for Razmi- indeed, she was a fan of the dark, creepy places, something about “the light driving away the cool vampire bats with their bloody fangs” that Ajna made her shut up about. But, it was kind of odd that there seemed to be no light anywhere in the house. Just a few hours ago, they had been setting up candles for the week of Rebirth, and by that logic, it should have been bright as the inside of Razmi’s lantern.  
But no. Everywhere seemed dark. And pretty quiet. Normally, even around this time there’d be some sort of noise. Lanshi barking, Baozhai drinking, Nuna tip-toing to Hunoch and Xiboch’s room, snoring, coughing, with people like these, a quiet night was pretty rare.  
Not that Razmi cared, mind you, but there was still something odd about that.  
Shrugging it off, and still drowsy from waking up to almost vomit, Razmi slunk out of the bathroom, back down the hall, and into her and Ajna’s room.  
Weird. Ajna didn’t even seem to hear her get up, or shut the door, or even swear under her breath. And true, Ajna could sleep through a fire and wake up in the ashes, she was pretty precise about her friends, considering they could live in her head at any time.  
Climbing back up onto her bunk, Razmi slipped back into bed, letting her head fall back into the pillow comfortably. As the blankets wrapped around her again, and the soft glow of her lantern was placed back above her head from its hook, the witchy woman curled up for a good night’s rest  
“Ahh….night Bom, ya big dead idio…” As she reached to pat her dead friend’s head, she stopped, feeling only her raven black hair.  
Where was he? She just had him on her head not even 2 minutes ago. How could he have fallen off? Oh, sweet Kala, she couldn’t been seen without Bom. The only person who had ever seen her without Bom was Ren, when he accidentally- or for his sake it should have been accidental- when she was getting changed, and it took quite a bit of the old Razmi charm to “convince” him that he saw nothing, less he wanted to be roasted alive in his sleep.  
“Bom? Bom? Where are ya?”  
Ignoring how ridiculous it felt to be calling for her dead tiger like a child for their stuffed friend, Razmi looked over the railing of the bed, seeing Bom laying spread out on the floor, as if he was a rug. As she began to move towards the ladder to bring him back to her head, Bom moved  
Bom, the dead tiger, moved. Not like a gust of wind, moved, but slid forward on his own. He jerked around for a moment, before as if lifted by invisible forces, leapt about a foot of the ground, gyrating and twisting violently. The sound of his claws, still sharp thanks to Razmi’s care of them, lashing against the wooden sides of the bed created a deep tearing noise, followed by the deep, furious growls and roars that poured from Bom’s slack-jawed mouth. What looked like hot mist erupted from his nostrils, his glittering teeth gnashing hungrily as if tearing its kill between the once limp mandibles. His tail wagged furiously, catching on the dresser’s knobs to pull the whole drawer out, sending the contents of shirts, skirts, and robes against the wall, before violently smashing the drawer itself to pieces.  
How was Ajna not seeing this? Any other time Razmi tried to do some kind of ritual, Ajna was up at her shoulder, nagging about “not toying with the dead this” or “not trying to summon a demon” that. But she could sleep through this, when her friend’s dead tiger was spasming and roaring like it was possessed?  
Razmi pressed herself against the wall, watching as Bom suddenly straightened out, the sound of his teeth gnashing and roaring dying to down a soft purr, before he floated- literally floated- over to his former wearer, his eyes still dead and black, gazing at Razmi with almost cold, calculating intent.  
And Razmi was. Loving. Every. Moment.  
“B..Bom…? Bom, is…is that you…?” She reached out to touch his fur, seeing how warm it felt, pulsing with life, before suddenly the tiger pulled away, as if it was the one afraid. For a moment, he stood in all his furry glory, before letting out a low rumbling growl  
“Grrrraaawww…”  
Nodding her in head in excitement, as if she understood what Bom ‘said”, Razmi almost exploded with glee- something very rare coming from her.  
“Yes! Yes! This is amazing! Oh my gosh, what are you now? Are you, like, a ghost? Where’s your ectoplasm?! Can I have some, Bom? Please? Please?”  
At this Razmi stuck out her hands, wiggling her fingers in anticipation, the long claw-like nails ready to be doused in sweet, sticky, glowing ectoplasm.  
“Grrrrr….”  
“Oh…” Razmi’s eager grin faded. “You don’t have ectoplasm?” A moment later, her smile instantly appeared again. “Oh! I get ya! You’re a zombie! Can you give me some slime? All zombies have slime! Or, maybe, some brains! We could put some brains in Ajna’s head, she needs them real bad…”  
“Grrraa…”  
“Oh. Not a zombie either, huh?” At that, Razmi’s dream of filling her tomboyish friend’s head with a hundred pulsing wet squishy brains were dashed. “Then…uh, what are you now?”  
“Grrror…rawr….hurgh…”  
“Okay, so you ARE a ghost, just…not Bom?”  
“Grrr.”  
“But, you still ARE a ghost, right?”  
“Grrr.”  
“So, if you are a ghost, are you gonna possess me? Take my soul? Maybe write something in blood on the walls?”  
“Grrraa…urgh…hack!”  
“What do you mean you can’t do any of that? I thought a ghost would be cooler…”  
“Bom” swayed back and forth, swiping its claws in slow, deliberate strokes, at first pointing a silver-grey claw at Razmi’s nose, before back at itself, before pointing at her again. The roars it made now, slow, gurgling, and wet, seemed more purposeful now, as if it was trying to mimic a human conversation. Its eyes still cold and lifeless seemed to roll up and down in response to Razmi’s questions.  
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the gross stuff, sheesh…” Razmi crossed her arms, huffing, wishing she had Bom back on her head to indignantly cross his paws over her hands. “So, what you mean is…you’re not Bom, but a ghost that took on what Bom looks like?”  
Bom nodded its head, waving its cold lifeless paws once more.  
“Then…where’s the real Bom?”  
Once more, the spirit shook its head, letting out another guttural groan- even it seemed to be exhausted with Razmi’s, er, mannerisms at this point. Ignoring the question, the spirit pointed to itself again, holding up three clawed, uh, “fingers”, before pointing again to Razmi, growling through the slack, cavernous maw it possessed.  
“You took the form of something I’d recognize? And…you’re here to tell me something then? What is it?”  
Again, it held 3 claws up, swishing the air in quick succession, letting out quick deep purrs in response.  
“There’s gonna be 3 more ghosts?” Razmi’s sweet little smile returned to her normally glaring face. “Are they gonna have any….”  
Another furious roar.  
“A no on the ectoplasm. Do any of you ghosts have anything cool?”  
The spirit kept on, marking the air with its claws, before pointing over to the Tai Krung Summer calendar hanging on the wall. The one where Naga Rider volunteered to be a, er, model in the pictures, and one that made everyone pretty awkward except Kampan. A talon pointed out the date below a picture of a shirtless Naga Rider chopping wood in the snow, the date of Jeevan Ka Mausam, before pointing back to itself  
“Wait, you mean the 3 Spirits of Life thing? Oh come on!” Razmi threw her hands into the air, as if she was a child being told her party clown wouldn’t show up, and her weird uncle had to do it instead. “I get to see a bunch of ghosts for one of the only times in my life, and you tell me that they’re gonna be about this stupid holiday stuff? And they don’t even have slime!”  
“Bom” growled again, placing a paw on Razmi’s shoulder. Razmi had to admit, feeling Bom’s paw on her shoulder always did calm her down, even if it wasn’t Bom and some kind of otherworldly spirit, the feeling of comfort still remained.  
“And why are they coming here?”  
“Bom” purred, pointing to the calendar, then at Razmi’s heart- and yes, dear reader, Razmi DOES have a heart!- before purring again.  
“They’re going to teach me the spirit of the season? Really?”  
A silent nod and a purr was all she got in response.  
Razmi sighed and rubbed her eyes- maybe this was a bad dream, maybe those mushrooms things she ate were bad, and she was lying on the bathroom floor on a trip so high she could probably float to Mt. Sumeru and back.  
Reaching out, her hand gently ran through “Bom’s’ fur, letting the cool hairs run between her fingers. Soft, squishy, a bit sticky in some parts from matts of fur sticking together. Yup, it felt like just the real thing.  
Maybe this wasn’t a dream. Maybe this was actually happening. After all, she had spent time traveling the world inside some girl’s head, with a bunch of lunatics, saw the Goddess of the World be defeated, so could talking to a ghost who was telling her she was going to get a lesson in spiritual joy any different.  
As Tungar had so wisely said, stranger things have happened.  
Razmi closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them again, seeing as “Bom”, as if to comfort her, floated over and laid its head on her lap, letting her fingers gently stroke its fur.  
“Aw, Bom…you know I can’t stay mad at you.” She gave a small smile, stroking behind her tiger’s ears now, hearing the spirit purr softly in response. “It’s just, well, you know why I don’t like any of this holiday stuff”  
Oh, wait. This wasn’t Bom, but a spirit dressed up like him. Still, it felt good to talk to someone who understood at least  
“When…when are these three ghosts coming?”  
A growl answered her.  
“An hour, huh?” Razmi looked at the clock, barely making out the half-past midnight sign in the barely penetrable darkness. “What about everyone else? You think a ghost can get in here without anyone noticing? If I wake Ajna up, she’d go get everyone else”  
Another growl and a paw pointed to the bottom of the bed.  
Ajna wasn’t asleep- or more accurately, wasn’t there. All there was a mess of pillows and half-curled blankets, like she had suddenly got up and left.  
“Oh, so…I’m alone then?” Razmi said quietly. She normally was happy to be alone, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt a bit bad saying that now. “Where are they?”  
A soft, reassuring purr echoed into the black and empty room.  
“I’ll see everyone again, after the whole ghost thing? Alright….”  
Razmi continued to stroke and pet “Bom” slowly, letting only the sound of his purrs fill her ears. She was excited- I mean, not every day you get to see a ghost- but she felt bad, maybe even a bit afraid. Here she was, waiting with her dead tiger, for three ghosts to arrive and do heavens knows what to her.  
And she was alone- at least, until this whole shebang was over.  
“Hey, uh, Bom…or whatever you are?”  
The spirit looked up at her, from her lap, its eyes still cold, but they seemed to have understood her request, and looked at her with just a twinkle of reassurance.  
“Can…can you stay with me? At least until the first ghost comes?”  
The spirit nodded again, and rested its head snugly on Razmi’s lap, letting out a content purr. Razmi gave a bit of a wider smile, it always made her cold heart twinge a bit to hear her tiger purr. Her fingers continued to tease and play with his ears, gingerly rubbing his whiskers back and forth, or cupping his jaw to hear him purr a bit more.  
In the darkness, in the cold, in the silence, Razmi and “Bom” waited. It was just like being back in the woods, before Ajna, before everything. Just a shaman and her tiger.  
And, as the time slowly ticked the hour away, and the feeling of the spirit resting against her lap began to overtake her with the comfort of sleep, the familiarity of the scene stirring the feeling of security despite the odd and supernatural circumstance, Razmi only thought one thing as she felt her eyelids close.  
It was a damn good thing she understood tiger, or else those would have been pretty awkward, huh?  
(End Part 2)


	8. A Very Wulfpack Christmas

>Everyone knows Beowulf- big, wolf pelt-wearing wrestler who is now Annie: Girl of the Star’s partner on her hit mulit-million dollar TV show.   
>And anyone who watches the show sees him as a brave warrior full of bravado and strength, but maybe a bit lacking in the strategic areas, or putting it more clearly, not so bright  
>And anyone who knows Beowulf outside the show…can tell you pretty much the same thing  
>But for all its worth, Annie and Beowulf do get along pretty alright.   
>Sure, Beowulf might wake Annie up at insane hours with his wrestling marathons and Annie might tick Beowulf off giving him lectures and rules (as who can tie down the Wulfpack, I ask you?) but if they were to be honest, they’re pretty glad they have each other.  
>This drastic personality shift, this odd couple relationship, however, is most evident when it comes to celebrating the holiday season.  
>Annie, having seen-and been in- one too many of those cheesy Christmas specials that feel like a front for laundering money, is a bit jaded from the commercialism and the marketing of the holiday. If she has to do that stupid thing where she dresses up in that embarrassing little elf costume in the Christmas morning parade again, her agent is gonna get a Galaxy Cutter to the back of the head.  
>Beowulf, on the other hand, loves the holiday season. One of his best matches was on Christmas night, in which he jumped from a flying sleigh they had above the arena to choke-slam his opponent through a table. And aside from that, he loves getting to do all the traditional stuff with someone, since he hasn’t done it in a bit. Stuff like cutting down the Christmas tree, setting up the train beneath it, hanging the lights, even leaving milk and cookies out for Santa!  
>”Beo…” says Annie, watching as the man in a bulk-sized Christmas sweater sets cookies and milk by the fireplace. “You know Santa is, uh, just a myth, right?”  
>”So?” Beowulf scoffs back. “Annie, you’re, like, immortal! And we fought a shapeshifting nun and a Skullgirl in one night! Out of all that, you’re telling me Santa isn’t real?”  
>”That’s….that’s actually kind of a good point, Beowulf”  
>”Yeah, and who do you think delivers all those presents in one night? I mean, come on!”  
>Most of the time they have is usually taken up by usual Christmas celebrity hokum, unfortunately. Stuff like appearing on the morning news, and those insane talk shows run by overly peppy hosts, guest appearances at concerts and malls, and appearing in commercials and holiday specials.   
>Strangely though, Beowulf seems to be the most “bothered” by all these schedules, rather than Annie herself.  
>You could chalk this up as the Wulfpack doing what the Wulfpack wants, but normally Beowulf loves the fans, and would do anything for that cheering crowd. Instead, he seems more concerned about having enough time for something, such as will they be back late.  
>In fact, Beowulf seems more…managed than usual. He reorganized his closet for some reason, putting what Annie thought was a heavy duffle bag in the back. Writing things down in a little red book that he always hid when Annie came by. And, he even seemed to be putting on a bit of weight, scarfing down bags of pork rinds, cookies, and TV dinners as much as he could.  
>Wait, no, his junk food was usual, but this time it seemed more deliberate instead of trying to avoid cooking.  
>The weirdest thing of all was what happened one night.  
>Last Friday, Annie had just returned from a rumored Skullgirl sighting somewhere out past Maplecrest, only to discover it was a false alarm and just some stupid college students from the medical school dressing up skeletons in Santa suits.   
>She left Beowulf back at the penthouse, due to him “getting real sick after that stunt work they did in Episode 893”.   
>When she got back, expecting to find him asleep in bed next to the Hurting, she saw him getting out of a car in front of the penthouse, carrying that heavy duffle bag.  
>Upon asking Beowulf what he was doing, Annie got this answer.  
>”….I was at the pornography store. I was buying pornography”  
>”Beowulf, no you weren’t”  
>”Uh…hey, look over there, Sagan’s got his tongue stuck on the signpost!”  
>”No he didn’t, Beo”  
>After several stupid answers later, Beowulf just gave up and quick ran to his room and locked the door.  
>Now, tonight, Annie was going to figure out what was going on. Could it be he shackled up with the Medicis? Nah, he was dumb, but not that dumb. Could he have joined another Wulfpack fan club that turned out to be a pyramid scheme for trying to sell faux wolf pelts? Very possible.  
>Pretending to leave for a meeting, Annie hid out in the alley behind the penthouse, and waited for Beowulf to make a move.  
>At Friday, 7:00, a car pulled up to the penthouse, flashed its lights, and a few minutes later, Beowulf came running around, carrying the duffle bag and a heavy burlap sack, and jumped in the front.   
>Annie, using her cosmic powers, travels silently behind them on her Solar Cruiser, weaving through the snow covered streets and back alleys, following the car as it weaves into downtown New Meridian  
>Finally, the car pulls up to its destination- the entrance to New Meridian General?  
>Huh. What could be Beo be doing at a hospital this time of night? Surely he wasn’t studying to be a doctor, right?  
>Swallowing down the thought of Beowulf using a scalpel on someone like that crazy nurse, Annie carefully waited until Beowulf disappeared through the doors, before quickly following him in.  
>It was so strange when he walked in. The attendant at the front desk greeted him by name- although not suspicious seeing as he and Annie were big name celebrities- but the way she acted, as if she knew Beo personally. And the way the doctors waved to him…it seemed like he had been here multiple times.  
>Thanking herself for packing her and Sagan’s disguises, Annie dons her sunglasses, coat, and bandana and follows Beowulf into a crowded elevator, hiding herself among the crowd of patients and doctors.  
>The elevator travels up a few floors, until stopping at Floor 6. The pediatric ward.  
>The crowd shuffles out and Beowulf follows, Annie in good distance behind him.  
>Beowulf walks to the ward desk, and greets the attendant.  
>Annie can’t make out what they say above the ringing of the intercom and the chatter of medical jargon, but she can make out these few sentences.  
>”Oh, everyone’s waiting…have the things they asked for?...”  
>”Yeah! Should I go to the…or wait outside…?”  
>”Just wait in the lobby, we’ll call…again, for helping us out…”  
>At that, Beowulf laughs in that howling laugh, before walking down the hall, avoiding the crowd before slipping into an empty patient room.  
>Deciding to quick get him here, and finally figure out what’s going on, Annie quickly runs into the patient room.  
>”Beowulf, what are you doi…uh…”  
>Standing before her, in his wolf-patterned boxers and that white t-shirt with the spaghetti sauce on the chest, was Beowulf. His face was red, both from surprise of seeing Annie and from being caught getting changed.  
>Just as red as the suit in the duffle bag  
>”A..annie! Jeez, ya scared the hell outta me!” Beowulf, upon relaxing a bit, looks at Annie and Sagan up and down. “Wait, are you here to volunteer too?”  
>”Volunteer? Beo, what do you mean? Is there where you’ve been going out all the time?”  
>”Yeah, you caught me” says the wrestling champ, slipping on the heavy red suit, smoothing out the white fur trim on the edges. He smiles warmly- he may be a bit of a dunce, but he has that smile that is honestly genuine, that could sell you a car if he knew how. “See, every holiday I come on down here, dress up as Santa and show up for the kids. You know, read ‘em stories, talk to them, let them tell me what they want for Christmas. Hell, you know there’s one kid who owns all my old wrestling stuff? What a coincidence, huh?”  
>Annie, for the moment, is speechless. Not speechless in the sense like the one time when the studio brought in a live wolf for an episode and Beowulf brought to live with them and it almost ate them until Sagan shot it with a tranquilizer. But speechless in the sense that she had no idea about this side of him.  
>Sure, he was an idiot that may not think things through, or at all, but he was still a nice guy. She never imagined him putting on a Santa suit and doing the “Ho-ho-ho” bit like some two-bit washed up actor in need of money, but this was out of genuine kindness, something that Beowulf had surprisingly plenty of.  
>”How long have you been doing this, Beowulf?”  
>”I dunno. Started when I got my first few matches under my belt, Zane thought it would be good PR, ya know? But, honestly, I kind of liked it. Seeing them get all excited when I walk in, cheering, it’s no different when I would step into the ring.” Beo chuckled, pulling the heavy red pants and buckling them with a huge black belt buckle. “But you know me, big ol’ softie. Well, don’t let that get around. Spoil the Wulfpack name”  
>”Huh…” Annie walked over to the heavy burlap sack, opening it up. Inside was a stash of toys that looked like Beowulf had run to the nearest toy store with his arm in the aisles and knocked every toy he could into the cart.  
>Action figures, models, dolls, toy planes, RC cars, candy bars as big as a book, comics, electric train sets, like a kid’s dream come true.  
>”And these are all what they wanted, right?”  
>”Yeah! You wouldn’t believe what some of them wanted! Hope I got everything on the list though. Is there a…managa…mangkaka?...” Beowulf looked in the little red book again before finally getting the name right. “Foreign comic book in there?”  
>Eh, close enough  
>Annie looked back at the sack, then at Beowulf, before letting a small smile spread on her face. Normally, Beowulf had the ability to drive her up the wall, but sometimes, well, sometimes he could make her feel like a kid again, the big lug.  
>”Say, Beo, uh…you need any help?”  
>”Huh?” Beowulf asked, fixing the long white beard on his face. “What do ya mean?”  
>”I mean, do you want me to help you give you the toys? I’m sure the kiddies would love seeing Annie of the Stars with Santa”  
>At that, Beowulf’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning  
>”Ah, Annie! Ya mean it? That would be great!”  
>Annie held a blush, chuckling as she rubbed the back of her head. “Well, it IS for the kids…and if you can do it, well, I guess I can too”  
>”Oh this is gonna be great! I got this little elf costume in here…”  
>”Beowulf, I could choke you out with that beard and leave you here”  
>”Fine, fine, maybe Sagan…”  
>Sagan let out a hiss in response.  
>”Fine! No one will wear the elf costume. But your agent said if you don’t, it’s pay deduction”  
>”Just…whatever.” Annie smiled again, taking a deep breath. She could chew them out later, but for right now, maybe some of that Christmas cheer or whatever sappy nonsense was rubbing off on her. “Let’s go, Santa.”  
>Beowulf slipped on the Santa hat, fixed his black boots and threw the toys on his shoulder, before letting out a mixture of a Santa Claus laugh and a howling wolf noise, as he and Annie walked down the hall to where all the kids were.  
>The kids were overjoyed to see Santa, and more so at Annie. They crowded around them, asking all sorts of questions, “How do you know Annie, Santa? Did she save you from a Skullgirl in the North Pole?”  
>Beowulf, er, Santa, was surprisingly adept at that answer, explaining how Annie once saved him when his sleigh crashed into a mountain, and they’ve been good friends ever since.  
>Annie had to admit, the way Beowulf was with the kids, he was really good at this. The way he had each kid come up and he’d joked around with them, before handing them each their gift. He even seemed to have a good relationship with some of them, asking one kid how his art project was going, or one girl how her leg was healing, they all seemed to love him.  
>Of course, the stories he would tell to further excite them were a bit Beo-ish, such as the story of how he fought an evil elf who tried to ruin Christmas in a no-holds bar steel cage match, and saved Christmas for all the boys and girls by reverse-nelsoning the elf off the top of the cage through an announcer’s table.  
>Hey, the kids seemed to like it.  
>Annie even actually enjoyed herself- this wasn’t some stupid commercial or something where a dozen cameras with greasy cameramen were shoved in her face, this was just…fun. This was something good for the kids, not something that she had to shell herself out for.  
>Hell, she even found herself telling stories about how she and Santa fought a Skullgirl with nothing but an army of toy soldiers and a slingshot with a few snowballs in it.  
>When all the toys were given out, and everything was winding down, it was time for Santa and Annie to go.  
>The kids were upset- as anyone would be- but Santa promised to be back next year, and even Annie promised that too, if she could, of course, between saving the universe and all  
>As Beowulf and Annie walked out to the waiting car that would take them home, Annie kept looking at Beo with a smirk  
>”What? Do I still have cookies on my face or something?”  
>”No, no, it’s just…you know, you make a good Santa, Beo”  
>”Really? Hey, that means a lot, Annie! And you make a good el…I mean, you make a good Annie, Annie…”  
>Swish.  
>Annie chuckled, watching as Beowulf opened the car door and let her slide on in. The attendant up front looked at the two of them.  
>”A’ight, where to, folks? Back to 108 Starr Lane, right?”  
>”Ye…”  
>”You know what?” Annie interrupted, slipping the attendant a 10 bone bill which he eagerly swiped. “Take us to that sports bar downtown, what is it…TGIS…”  
>”Right away, miss Annie!”  
>”Hey, we’re going to Thank Goddess It’s Saturday?” Beowulf looked at Annie in confusion. “But you said that place is loud, annoying, and full of people like me, and that you can only handle one of me or else you’ll snap”  
>”Yeah, I know…” Annie smiled warmly, slugging him in the side playfully as she slipped on her disguise with Sagan. “But I got our disguises, and besides…I think you earned a trip. I could go for some hot wings too.”  
>Beowulf smiled like the big lug he was, and with a jolliness in himself only Santa could give, pulled Annie into a hug.  
>”Thanks, Annie! You’re the best, ya know that!”  
>The smaller girl returned the hug, patting his back gently. As much as an idiot he was, Beowulf was one of her only friends, and she couldn’t trade him for the world  
>”So are you, Beo. So are you. Oh, and when we get back, tell me to call Jack about the elf costume. Pay deduction my as…butt”


	9. Rendezvous

The sound of the heels against marble, the tapping of a thousand feet moving in quick succession like the march of a thousand soldiers echoes among the bleating chorus of human speech. Laughter, gossip, the talk of celebration, the talk of business, and the talk of the poor and of the rich pour away into one incomprehensible song, tuned to a melody of string instruments and horns that in contrast to the shouting miasma of voices plays in rich, flowing harmony with themselves and each other.  
The table you have found yourself at it is just out of the way of the crowds, past the scurrying servers with jugs of wine and appetizers, past the socialites standing at the circular hub of the bar with fancy drinks in hand. Here, you could see the dancers below, just down the stairs in the massive dance floor in the center, moving constantly to the surging beat of the funky music, played above them on the stage, which hung suspended in the air by massive chains. No one seemed to notice you there, and if they did they didn’t say anything- it was your oasis, frozen in place, standing still among the energy and the life the party had.  
You considered why, as you straightened out your nice clothes, as to what exactly you had in mind when you came here. Sure, this was during the celebration of the Winter Solstice, the Season of Life, all that jazz, and to at least do something to take in the holiday was reason enough, but this wasn’t your style, was it? Hanging out with these ritzy upperclass, dancing, socializing, it just wasn’t your style.  
You weren’t a loner, just a bit quiet. You knew who you liked, and you knew who you wanted to talk too. Maybe you thought getting out and seeing the city would give you something to do, but clearly, if there was nothing to do for you here, what was the point of going?  
In fact, you had just considered getting up and walking out through the crowd, wondering if you could cut through the docks to get back home faster, when he strolled up.  
As well-dressed as he was, you were surprised you didn’t see- or hear- him walk up. His footsteps must have been silent, as the first thing you noticed was his cologne- strong, but not unpleasantly so, carrying an aroma of lotus flowers that reminded you of those trees in the Tai Krung courtyards. He wore a raven black suit, a fancy one at that- trimmed gold around the lapels, pressed red roses in the breastpocket, silk so smooth it seemed to roll off him like spring water down the side of a mountain. His suit opened at the near top, parting in a diamond shape to reveal his bare chest, equally refined and eye-catching, with chiseled lines that had seemed so pronounced that one could slip their fingers to trace every inch. His hair, a shimmering white as snow, seemed both coiffed and messy, rolling bangs in the front to hide away his golden eyes that sparkled like the candles on the table, while it rose up in the back like an ocean wave, a sort of ponytail that dipped into a teardrop-like curl.   
Oh, and that face. With those golden eyes, how he looked at you with such anticipation, with such a glee that could be compared to a lover of fine art gazing upon a statue of quality marble. How he grinned so widely in a way reminiscent of a shark, revealing teeth so sharp, yet so pearly white they called to you like a deceptive gate to Nirvana.  
“My, my, my~…” the stranger crooned in a voice so dripping with excitement, with a breathiness that made your own breath catch in your throat. “What do we have here~? Someone so adorable all alone~? That’s rather surprising~!”  
At that, your words caught in your throat, your cheeks flush red, the blood running to them as your heart, like the drums above your head, begins to thump wildly. The stranger laughs in delight as you sees you all flustered, reaching to run a rather delicate finger skillfully across your cheek, letting it slither down until he cups your cheek.  
“Well, seeing as no one else seems to have noticed you, I guess it’s up to little ol’ Ren to make sure you have a good time~”  
Now, before you got intervene, you found yourself pulled away with such strength that you could have flown out of your shoes. The stranger, if his name was to be believed as Ren, was escorting you to the dance floor. His grip was tight, but not so forcefully that you would presume yourself in danger but tight enough that it showed his quite surprising strength.  
Descending the steps and dashing through the crowd of dancers, of women in flowing gossamer dresses on the shoulders of men, to wallflowers laughing giddily above their wine, you and the mysterious Ren had found yourselves surrounded. You still feel quite nervous- this man being a total stranger and all, who knows what he could do to you, what unspeakable depravities he has in store?  
As if reading your mind, Ren eases to let his voice, as tempting and seductive as that of a snake yet with much more charm, pour into your ear. His hot breath, his lips only inches away from nibbling on your lobe, and such a thought makes your body shiver at even the imagining of the sensation  
“Now, now, don’t worry a single hair on that pretty little head~ . I wouldn’t hurt you~…that is, unless you want me to~”  
He let out a laugh, a laugh that seems more delighted and teasing than anything a bloodthirsty killer would do. His tongue’s tip, for a sliver of a moment, licks across his lips and his breath lowers to an almost sultry coo  
“I just want to show you a good time, is all~. Now, do you know how to dance~?”  
You nod your head- just the way he talks, it seems to put you under a spell. The way his fingers glide across your skin, his voice dripping into your ear, the warmth of his skin on yours, even the aroma of his cologne is enough to overpower you.  
“Y…yeah, I know how to dance…well, a bit.”  
“Splendid~! That will save plenty of time, my little mouse~. Now, just follow my feet~…”  
And that, Ren’s hand cups around yours, your digits entwining and melting together as your feet begin to slowly shuffle along to the beat.  
Well, your feet do at first, as if afraid to trip up and knock your mysterious stranger over. Ren’s feet are swaying with their silent steps, moving with such practiced skill that you find yourself more jumping over his feet than in tune.   
Slowly, however, at Ren’s gentle commands, you let your body relax, your feet move in simple synchronization with his own, from kick-ball changes to elaborate turns and pivots. You have to admit, you’re surprised by how well you’re doing, how easy you find yourself swaying and moving with Ren. You catch glances at his sharp toothed smile gazing down at you, and you look away all bashful, only to be met with his voice melting into your ear.  
“You’re doing so wonderful, my little mouse~! Do you mind if I call you that, you’re just so adorable as one~. And quite as nimble too~”  
At those words, you feel your heart quiver, your body suddenly going limp as if a thousand spirits has just passed through you. Ren chuckles again, letting both of our bodies fall into a natural rhythm, moving to the beat of the drums, the echoing blast of horns. Every kick, every step, every sway is something so new, yet feels just right.   
You find yourself getting more comfortable, looking at Ren’s face now, his golden glittering eyes match up to yours, and suddenly you find an arm draping around your waist. A soft coo escapes your lips before you, following the motions, let your arm drape around his own waist, leading a surprised giggle from Ren.  
“Getting bold are we~? I like that~. Why don’t we try a little something more…wild, if this dance is getting too tame~?”  
As soon as he says that, Ren reaches up to grab your hand, raises your arm straight, and then steps back quickly, tossing you out into the crowd before reeling you back in. The wind in your hair is stopped by the feeling of his warmth against you, the familiar aroma of cologne greeting you as you’re swept back.  
Ren tosses you back and forth with delicately, yet wild, flair, sweeping you around to bring you back to his chest, letting out moans and chuckles every time you hit his front. You have to say, this is something you’re getting the hang of. With every time he tosses you out, you try to twirl yourself in his hand, like a top being brought back to the center. You’re surprised how easily your shoes slide on the floor, how graceful you move in the pulsing lights, the warmth of blush on your cheeks adds color to the laughter that pours from your lips.  
Falling back into Ren’s chest, he takes notice of you spinning, before lifting your arms up to, with a flick of his wrist, allow you to spin carefully around in front of him, his fingers twirling loosely in yours.   
The lights, the people, the crowd fades into an indistinguishable form of colors and sounds as you spin, the only visible object being Ren in front of you. You reach out and let a hand glide his cheek, although attempting to steady yourself on his shoulder. He doesn’t mind though, and he snickers teasingly as you do, enjoying your touch.  
Then, Ren stops spinning you for a moment, only to bring you back to him, and with a rather bold display of strength, lifts you off your feet, letting you hang still in the air for a moment, before swiftly bringing you back down.   
He leans in close and whispers into your ear, letting fingers boldly tease your hair, examining each curl, before moving to cup your cheek. His teeth look so sharp in the light, his eyes seem to drip their golden color onto your fingers as you, under his spell, reach up to gently cup his cheek.   
“Mhm, why don’t we relax a moment, my little mouse~. After all, I don’t want you to be tired when we’ve just begun~” He points to the bar, his voice as intoxicating as the wine and spirits that cover the glittering shelves of the bar. “And besides, shouldn’t we get to know each other better~?”  
Your voice suddenly breaks from its cage in your throat, and with a display of boldness, you pull Ren close and sweep him downward, letting his legs slip between yours, his face gazing up at you. His smirk and your smirk match in playfulness, and your eyes meet with intense excitement.  
Maybe there was something here worth staying here for.  
“Let’s~”


	10. Un'opera Ntalizia

Roberto paced back and forth for what seemed like the hundredth time now, his feet constantly tapping against the well-polished floor of the estate’s personal hall. He weaved carefully, without much real notice, through the maze of servants and workers moving tables or hanging lights, and the occasional bark of a servant’s orders to another would distract him. In his hand, he clutched a letter, a letter he had received just a few minutes ago from the Canopy Council of Wartime Efforts, and although he was reading it, it certainly would appear he wasn’t enjoying the contents very much.  
If a servant would walk by him in the midst of setting up for the events tonight, he would be able to make out Roberto’s words as he mumbled them under his breath.  
“Regret to inform you…controversial nature of your programme….we will be unable to perform it as per stated in…”  
At that, said servant would watch as Roberto would stop stand still, crumble the paper up into his pocket, and walk off back into the hallway.  
And, it would look like he was talking to someone who they couldn’t see.  
Now, Roberto Contiello wasn’t an angry man. Sure, he was a pretty well-off type of man, but he wasn’t one of those wealthy fatcats that drove around in those long chrome cars and howled with delight when he tossed pennies into a crowd of homeless people to watch them shove each other over. Perish the thought- he was a kind, charitable, and warm man that welcomed anyone who came to him, and he strove to raise his daughter in such a way, as was the right thing to do.  
But, Roberto Contiello was a man of passion towards his craft of opera, and the occasional dabble into other forms of music and art. No skimping on the details (unless absolutely needed), no reworking a classic script, no canned music to be played, only by live orchestra. It was only the right thing to do as well, when working with such a craft. And with such passion, came the respect of tradition.   
Something all Contiellos held deeply was the value of tradition, they knew what was right and what was wrong, and that life was built on a variety of tradition, from the idea of writing style to the way one could live. The very concept of being denied your tradition, your legacy, was something that was near unspeakable.  
Roberto climbed the spiraling staircase in the estate’s lobby, turned past the snow-covered veranda with its glittering fresh snow, and walked through the door to his bedroom, where sitting on the bed, reading, was his wife, Selene.  
Looking up from her book on gardening tips for winter flowers, Selene, her blue eyes sparkling warmly as she saw Roberto, gave her husband a gentle smile.  
“Ah, Roberto! There you are! I was just about to ring you on the hall telephone. I had an idea for the party tonight and…” Her smile dimmed a bit as she saw Roberto’s grimacing face. “Is something the matter, love?”  
Selene. Roberto could never be mad at her, not that he was mad at her in this instance. Her warm smile, her auburn-blonde hair, her darling blue eyes, the way even her voice with its gentle touch could ease any demon out of him. He hated to look so miserable around his wife or daughter, especially with the kindness they showed him. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and gave a soft smile, reassuring his beloved.  
“Oh, it’s fine, darling….well, it’s just, I best let the letter explain it.” Roberto sat on their bed beside his wife, handing her the half-crumpled letter. Selene took it, and after a few moments of reading it, her eyes went wide and she almost choked on a gasp.  
“What is the meaning of this? They can’t do this!” She shook the letter in anger, as if the very ink itself was enough to send her into rage.   
“I’m afraid they can.” Roberto gave a resigned sigh, rubbing his moustache as if out of shame. “It’s in, what was it, War Order Number 20. They released it last week. I quote: “Any form of medium- literatures, artworks, music, or spoken- considered seditious by royal decree are to be prohibited following further notice”. It’s ridiculous, I know.”  
“But…but…we spent weeks planning the show!” Selene tossed her hands in the air. “And what is so seditious about it? Surely, the Reniors don’t consider that we would toss our hands in the air and declare loyalty to the Chess Kingdom in the middle of it!”  
“Well, knowing Franz, he probably took one good look at the title and balked.” Roberto rolled his eyes, the word Franz coming off with a hint more anger. “Anyone with even a hint of plays, even someone whose never seen a show, could tell you La pace di Natale is nothing but a harmless holiday tradition!”  
To those not in the know, La pace di Natale, better known by its common name The Christmas Peace, was the reenactment of an event during Chess-Canopy War, when in the Battle of Meridian Grove, both Canopy and Chess soldiers, for some reason, defied their general’s orders and stopped firing, only to instead declare a temporary cease-fire. During this cease-fire, despite the commands of generals and officials, both sides engaged in what could be described as a “fake-war”, throwing snowballs at each other, playing with a ball someone had found to score goals, and even shared rations in a huge feast to celebrate the Christmas season. It was only after, and this is speculation, that upon orders on both sides that any soldier would be killed for treason, that the real brutal fighting began. The play itself focused on two legendary soldiers, an eager patriotic private working as a chef in the mess hall, and a female soldier working as a spy died as lovers as they refused to support the fighting any longer, and were shot by both of their once-respected generals.  
The play was popular, not just for its love story and holiday grab, but as a “powerful message that extols the strength of brotherhood among men” and, the reason it was so controversial, as an anti-war message, which portrayed the generals as snarling dogs with something to prove, as cowards that hated and feared peace and only wanted war.   
The Contiellos always performed this play, a sort of cross between opera and theater, every season and donated the funds to a relief effort to support the Arts, or to a children’s hospital, or to simply the general poor. To hear that the Reniors had declared the play to be something so horrible that it couldn’t be performed, was enough to make Roberto sick.  
“Ugh…I’ll have to call Albert at the Palazzo. Tell him to put the brakes on the program. Unless, of course he already got the letter himself” Roberto shook his head in resigned fury- all the practicing, the hard work, getting the stage ready at the Palazzo Theater to accommodate the backdrops, they even had real cannons to be fired they got thanks to Medici connections with the historical society! All of it was for nothing now.   
Selene sighed as well- she was never political, but things like this always got under her skin. All their hard work was shot down, months of hard work had sunk with just a scathing letter. But, it hurt her more to see Roberto like this. Gently moving behind him, Selene gingerly let her hands rest on his shoulders, letting them massage them in slow, tender circles.  
“I know, I know…and believe you me, I’m upset too. But, I’m sure Albert will understand. It’s not like we’re in dire straits with financials. Maybe we could reschedule it, perhaps?”  
Roberto relaxed at his wife’s touch- she always could make him feel a whole lot better. It almost made the feeling of disgust go away. Letting a hand rest on hers, Roberto looked back at her, shrugging his shoulders.  
“No, no, we couldn’t do that. The Palazzo was packed for shows, and we were lucky enough to take the December slot. Now that it’s cancelled, I’m sure another show will take our place.”  
“Something troubling you, sir?”  
Upon hearing the muffled sound of a voice, Roberto stroked his shoulder, quickly opening a small buttoned flap on the top of his suit. Slithering out from the hole, emerged a long, snake-like dragon, who gave both husband and wife a courteous bow.  
“It’s the Reniors, isn’t it, madam?” Leviathan asked, bowing his head to Selene in a dignified manner. “Although, I can believe it goes without saying”  
“Yes, Leviathan…” Selene nodded, moving to pat Leviathan’s head gently, earning a soft purr from the dragon. “The show we were putting on for Saturday- La pace di Natale-has been, er, “censored” due to wartime decree.”  
“What?! Inconceivable!” Leviathan snapped, a small jet of purple flame erupting from his mouth as he spoke. “Master Roberto, please, if this is some sort of Yuletide prank on me, I’d very much admit it’s a clever one…”  
“It’s true, Leviathan. The Council of Wartime Efforts sent us a letter this morning. Effective immediately, we are to stop all performances deemed inappropriate for the war effort”  
Now, Selene and Roberto were both upset mind you, but Leviathan was the one to be wary of. Leviathan was always strangely “politically charged” when certain things came up, such as the Reniors, the mention of Lorenzo and Vitale Medici, even mention of a certain “friend” he knew way back when. Although they had asked him about these things, Leviathan only explained that it was “part of a larger story”, and when the time would come, he apologized, he would tell them everything, but to reassured it had nothing to do with them at hand.  
“Those…those…” Leviathan’s rage, had he not been so dignified, would have allowed to swear if he didn’t catch himself. “Usurpers! Ingrates! To think this kingdom was built on the backs of the Arts, and that charlatan and his brood can go and rebuke it?! They wouldn’t know culture if it came up and bit them in the…”  
“Calm down, Leviathan…” Roberto pat his parasite’s head- he knew it was strange to do that, considering Leviathan was a part of him, but it always calmed him down a bit, just as Selene could do to him. “We’re quite upset about this too, but being mad about it and stewing in it wouldn’t solve anything more”  
“You’re right, sir, and forgive me for sounding out of line, but have you considered what the other members of the family will say? They are still coming for the dinner tonight, correct?”  
“Of course they’re still coming, but they would be expecting to see the show for the holiday. They’d be devastated when they find out….”  
“Does Sienna know?”  
“No, and that will be the worse part. She was so excited for the show too…” Roberto chuckled with a soft smile, remembering how eager his daughter was, how she told everyone from her grandmother to her tutor how wonderful this rendition would be, how it would be talk of the town for months to come.   
At that, Roberto shook his head sadly, putting his head in his hands before looking back at Selene and Leviathan.  
“This is what worries me the most. We could possibly be seeing the beginning of an end…”  
Selene inched closer to her love, placing a hand on his leg soothingly.  
“What do you mean, dear?”  
“If the Reniors have their way, censoring our work and traditions, imagine what legacy Sienna will inherit. The idea of her being a songbird for a tyrant would be worse than abandoning tradition altogether.”  
Selene pulled Roberto close, giving his cheek a gentle kiss. The scent of her perfume from her morning wash wafted over him, letting him fall into her embrace.  
“Oh, darling, don’t think like that. There is nothing to say that will happen! True, things may seem bleak now, but there have always been censors to art. This upsets me as well, but we mustn’t let things get a head of us.”  
Leviathan nodded sagely, draping his tail over Roberto’s shoulder, like one would give their companion a reassuring speech.  
“Madam Selene is right, sir. You needn’t be afraid of the future for Sienna. She has you and Madam to watch over her, and to train her right! I assure you, back when your father would work on his own operas, he had plenty of critics! Even if such foolish naysayings may come from those in royalty, take pride in knowing that you carry on tradition!”  
Roberto’s demeanor changed. Hearing Selene and Leviathan’s words of encouragement, he nodded in agreement, a brave smile slowly appearing on his face.  
“You’re right as always, Leviathan. And as always, you provide me a beacon in my despair, my love…” Roberto grasped Selene’s hand tenderly, giving her cheek a loving kiss before brushing some of her auburn-blonde hair from her face. “It’s just…the pressures can get to me. All this turmoil from the war, it could drive anyone mad, even citizens.”  
Selene gave her husband a sweet smile, playing with his moustache in an innocently playful way that always made Roberto chuckle, another hand reaching to scratch at Leviathan’s ears, gently touching at his ears before moving to cup his chin.   
“Don’t worry, my darling. We’re a family, and we’re here for you no matter what. That is nothing that even royalty itself could remove”  
Roberto chuckled warmly, feeling his despair and anger fully melt way. He pulled both Selene and Leviathan close, an arm draped around his wife’s waist and his parasite’s tail, letting them both rest into his side. His brown eyes shimmered with a soft caramel glow, his embrace warm and strong, like that of a noble gentleman  
“But, I admit…” Selene said with a wistful smile, resting her head on her amore’s shoulder. “The show would have been so lovely, especially with everything we’ve done. Why, I had to be custom-fitted into that dress for that scene where they dance on the battlefield!”  
“And you looked ravishing my dear~. Didn’t she, Leviathan?”  
“The madam was as radiant as the sun! I could say that even Queen Nancy herself is merely jealous of your beauty!”  
Selene giggled, her cheeks flushing red as she heard the two men-er, dragon- compliment her. She gave Roberto’s chest a little push.  
“Oh, you two! I thought I would have looked like an elderly widow had we not changed the dress! And you, Roberto, wearing that calvary uniform in the chef’s hat. You looked splendid, like a true soldier striding Olympian horses on the battlefield!”  
“Haha, I would have looked quite a sight, wouldn’t I? At least, Sienna thought so. How she laughed when I came in covered with foodstains from the dinner scene!” Roberto let out a hearty laugh, with Leviathan slyly hiding a chuckle behind his tail.  
“It would have been utterly great to see.” Leviathan nodded, waving his tail in nostalgic memory, a proud smile on his face as he gazed down at the two, showing how proud he was of them. “If the rest of the family was to see it, I’m sure they’d spend all night talking about wonderful it was, what pride you are giving the legacy. We’d probably have an audience of our own here!”  
“Say…that’s a great idea, Leviathan!”   
“I appreciate the compliment, but what idea, sir?”  
“Let them see it! I mean, they are coming here anyway, right? Why not just bring the show to them?”  
Selene looked up at him, piecing together what Roberto meant.  
“You mean, as in perform the show here? How would we do that?”  
“Well, everything we need is still packed up at the Palazzo, if memory serves? And since the house is being prepared for the guests to arrive and stay, we have plenty of space cleared out in the atrium. All we would have to do is…”  
“Bring the decorations over to the hall here, and set it up while we have the time?”  
“Exactly, Selene! We could have our own secret show here, a…a rebellion, yes! A rebellion against censorship!”  
“A rebellion?” Leviathan mused, a wry smirk on his face before he broke into a delighted laugh. “A blow against tyranny it is then! Like a sabre through Caesar, the arts shall pierce the heart of monarchy! What an idea, Roberto, sir!”  
Roberto rubbed the back of his head, feeling almost like a character in his own play. “Well, I was joking at first, but…it does have a ring to it!”  
Selene looked in curious wonder, before with an eager smile, nodded her head. This was only a private show of course, to friends and family, so it wasn’t anything too wild. But, it still felt good to be able to carry out that tradition, the feeling of pride when you carry your family name that swells in the hearts of every man.  
“And…how shall we advertise to those who paid? And the servants? What will they think of more work?”  
“Ah, the servants will receive a bonus! It is Christmas after all, and I’m sure a small surprise bonus wouldn’t hurt their spirits. And as for those we expect to arrive…perhaps Albert and I, along with the other theater patrons, can spread the word. A sort of secret bulletin we could hand out in the paybills!”  
“That sounds like it could work!’ Leviathan nodded in agreement, before whispering lowly to himself, like man telling himself a joke. “If Franz’s uncle Lord Otto couldn’t see a sniper’s bullet, then surely Franz couldn’t see this!”  
“So, what do you say, Selene? Do you think we should do it?”  
All Roberto got in response was Selene’s arms wrapped around him, and her rose-flavored lips pressing deeply to his own.  
“Ovviamente, mi amore~”  
Roberto, with the passion of a man less refined than he, kissed Selene back deeply and lovingly, before standing up to sweep her into his arms, earning a giggle from Selene- and a chuckle from Leviathan, who watched with amused heart.  
“Well, then, let’s go, my darling~. Our audience awaits~. Let’s find Squig…I mean, Sienna, and tell her. Our little songbird is watching cartoons in her playroom, I believe”  
And as the Contiellos stepped out of the room back to the waiting world of grey and snow outside, they laughed warmly together.  
And through the house, their laughter sounded so harmonic, so rich and so in tune that it seemed to fill every corner, every nook and every cranny of the sprawling estate, to tease the ears of the servants and the ears of the cleaners, and to roll along the marbled floors to rise into a heavenly pitch.  
It was the most beautiful music you could ever hear.


	11. Carol, Squigly, and Filia's Holiday

The blue sky of summer had, once again, turned a cold shade of grey now, the once puffy white clouds that rolled so lazily along their vast blue ocean had now become like sulking grey giants, clumped together into colorless tumor-like forms that silently rolled along the heavens above, tears of small white flakes dripping down to kiss the foreheads of bystanders and people walking by, whose only reactions were merely to pull together the flaps of their jackets or pull down their almost comically-sized wool hats over their foreheads before chattering their teeth and huffing out breaths of vapor as they continued along with their own daily life, trying to ignoring the icy winds that spit from the seas along their red cheeks and noses.

Of course, this isn’t to say that the bustling city of New Meridian stopped its progress to accompany this gloom-and-doom weather. In fact, it only grew busier! People wanted to see their families for the holidays, and of course the holiday shopping rush took its mighty grip upon the many department stores and shopping malls of the city. Christmas lights twinkled green and red under awnings topped with crisp white snow, elaborate displays adorned every storefront window, from simple designs of tasteful clothes on faceless statues in department store windows to massive constructions of toy train displays humming with electric buzz through the frosted glass of toy store windows. People flocked in stores and shops like herds of sheep, coming in with purses and hands full of money and returning the bags full of holiday gifts or just seasonal trinkets. Suburban homes glowed with the warmth of a cozy fireplace, its orange glow mingling with the soft rainbow hues of a twinkling Christmas tree, its crisp scent of pine ringing through the house with the scent of a warm, tender turkey basting under oven lights, its halls full of the ever present sound of little feet running back and forth to check under their trees for hauls of presents or goodies left by a certain jolly old elf in the dead of a winter night.

So, it could be pretty safe to say almost everyone in New Meridian celebrates the holidays! Okay, maybe some more or else than others, but it still counts, right?

If this is correct, then it would also be safe to say that a certain group of friends celebrate the holiday too. Sure, they celebrate a bit more quietly than the rest of us all, but again, it’s the thought that counts right?

This particular group of people had gathered inside the home of a one Sienna- or as she now went as “Squigly”- Contiello, whom believe it or not was once the heiress to a family opera company before a rather “untimely incident”, whom was busy throwing a Christmas party for her good friends this year, as to really get back into the holiday spirit.

Let’s have a look at the festivities now, shall we?  
…………………………………………………………………………….  
“Come on, Leviathan!” Squigly shouted up to the parasite, her attention more or less focused on attempting to balance on the rather creaky ladder her toes were perched on, her form swaying carelessly side to side like a tree in the wind, her hands gripping the limb of the Christmas tree for support. “Please, hurry before I fall back down!”  
T

he parasite could only give a quick reply, although what he meant to say was hushed under the large hunk of steel crammed between his teeth right now. With one last great effort, the snake-dragon unfurled himself upwards, tossing his head to the side to quickly place the object he had balanced between his jaws on top of the tree, giving a sigh of relief before hurrying back down to attend to his dangling mistress, using his tail as a sort of rope to lower her back to safe grounds.

Squigly smiled as she felt the solid ground welcome her back, her hand reaching up to lightly cradle Leviathan’s head, giving him a rewarding scratch for his hard work. Her eye glanced upwards to see what he had placed on top of the tree: a large, golden, metal star, whose brass shinnied brightly under the lights, twinkling and glowing almost like a real star would do.

The singer and her parasite had been hard at work for what seemed like forever setting up the tree for decoration, Squigly taking a well-deserved seat upon the old leather couch behind her. The large tree in front of her was of course a fake, a plastic one she had recalled many years ago during her family’s old Christmas partys back in the day, she and Leviathan had only managed by some miracle to drag this monsterous tree up from the basement and decorate it with a span of a few short, yet tiring hours. Her eye followed the large red bulbs that swayed so daintly from the plastic branches, adorned by strings of colorful lights that wrapped lovingly around the green needles and the mulitple crooks of red-and-white canes that hung on low branches, giving off a sweet smell of faint peppermint that mingled in the cool winter air.  
Squigly reached over onto the end table, picking up her mug of hot cocoa she had been nursing for the past hour for some sort of energy rush. She sipped down the warm brown liquid, letting the taste of sweet chocolate kiss her lips in all its lovely splendor, the warmth in her throat growing stronger as she drank, making her otherwise blue cheeks turn a faint shade of red. She stole a glance up at the clock, her eye widing in shock and amazement.

“Oh wow!” came a voice from somewhere behind her. “That looks amazing, Squigly!”

Squigly turned her head to look at the voice behind her, smiling more when she saw the source. Behind her stood Filia, one of her friends she had invited over for the little party. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, within one hand was a long wooden spoon, covered in a type of sticky batter of some sort, her other hand brushing off white dust from the apron she wore over her holiday sweater. Her “hair”- or better known to other friends as the parasite “Samson”- cradled a rather large glass of egg-nog (spiked to his liking, of course) in a long, black tendril, which seemed to sway back and forth slowly against the schoolgirl’s side.

“Thank you, Filia” Squigly said back, in her usual polite, sing-song tone. “But I must say it was a rather large undertaking getting it all set up properly. I’m almost willing to say I should never have brought the tree up this time!”

Filia chuckled, walking over to Squigly on the couch, her hand lightly patting the parasite warmly on the head, Leviathan giving a soft purr in response. The schoolgirl pointed her thumb back at the kitchen, the sounds of a mixer humming against the sounds of beeping filling the air, along with a peculiar scent of chocolate and butter that Squigly could swear was making her rather hungry.

“Well, since you’re done that, do you mind lending me and Carol a hand in the kitchen?” Filia offered a polite, warm smile, her red eyes twinkling in the glow of the tree lights. "I mean, if you’re not too tired..“

Squigly smiled even more and nodded her head, standing up and stretching herself for more movement. She didn’t mind helping them out in the kitchen, since they were her friends and she had always taken it upon herself to be polite and courteous for them. And that smell of sugar and butter wafting from the kitchen was just calling her name.

“Of course, I’ll help, Filia. Just lead the way.”

Filia smiled even more and, with one last brush of flour from her apron, she turned and walked back to the kitchen, leading the opera singer down towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was, unsurprisingly, full of noise and excitement and sweet smelling odors. Bowls of dough stacked on top of each other like the skyscrapers outside hovered above bags of chocolate chips and sugar, bags of flour spit out clouds of white dust in small blizzards of white, a large kitchen mixer whirred and hummed softly into a big bowl of cookie dough, the great oven glowed with a soft orange light from its glass screen, wafting out hot vapors that carried out the smell of melting chocolate, the tempting smell of warm brown sugar crystallizing against the heat and the warm smell of butter melting into golden pools of sunshine. On the display tables were a few trays of already baked cookies, ranging from chunky chocolate chip drops to smooth, colorful sugar cookies topped with a dusting of sugar and a dollop of lusious frosting. At the center of the table, dressed in a smaller apron, stood Carol, who was busying herself juggling trays of Christmas cookies in her hands, her outwardly diminutive stature contrasting against the stacks of trays laid against her palms.

Squigly couldn’t help but give a small, good-natured giggle at the sight of her friend juggling the trays of cookies against herself. She walked over to the girl, gently taking a few trays off her hands, earning a small grateful smile from the girl in front of her.

“Thank you…” Carol softly said, her smile growing out against her scarred face, a flour-dusted hand brushing away a mess of bangs that had fallen over her face.

Filia walked over to the two, reaching down to pick up a small chocolate chip cookie, popping into her mouth, before reaching back and handing an obligatory one back to Samson, the cookie vanishing into the possibly half-drunk parasite’s mouth. Filia smiled more, handing Squigly an extra apron from the bin on the table, the opera singer quickly wrapping it around herself.

“So….” Filia asked politely as she began to mix a bowl of chocolate chip dough, hoping to make a pleasant coversation. “What did you want this Christmas, Squigly? Anything in particular?”

“Oh, nothing much” Squigly shook her head and shrugged, getting to work on scooping out balls of sugar cookies, her hands rolling them around on a tray of powdered sugar. “Just some records and maybe some new movies to watch…”

Her voice lowered for a moment, to a type of playful, suggesting whisper. “And maybe that karaoke machine we saw the other week…”

Filia chuckled and rolled her eyes playfully, popping a small piece of extra dough into her mouth, to quell the temptation of snapping a bit of cookies from Squigly’s tray. The singer looked back at her friend, smirking knowngly at her as she worked. “And what did you wish for, Filia?”

“Just the usual” Filia nodded, tossing some of the cookie dough onto her tray, the sticky balls of dough plopping down against the shining metal tray. “Some new clothes to show off, some gift cards to those burger places downtown and I guess some extra money on the side for some other stuff”

Squigly nodded and smiled more, giving herself a hushed sigh of relief that Filia had fortunately not noticed. She and Carol had managed to scrap a few dollars together and buy her little something from her wishlist, and they had wrapped it up under the tree for unwrapping after they were done with the cookies.

Speaking of Carol, Squigly turned her head back to the smaller, quieter girl behind them, whose was working on frosting and decorating each cookie in little beautiful shapes and patterns.

“What did you want most for Christmas, Carol? Anything you had your eye on for a while?”

Carol offered a small, sheepish smile, her cheeks glowing a faint red hue as Squigly asked the question. While she was in the presence of friends, it still made her blush a bit to answer this question, since she thought it was a bit silly.

“Well..” Her soft voice rung out from her lips, like a songbird’s chirp or a one-note music box tone. “I would really like one of those deisgner kit’s of makeup…” Her voice seemed to get softer, although neither Squigly or Filia minded at all. “And maybe one of those nice sundresses for when the spring comes…”

Unfortunately for Carol- and rather fortunately for Squigly and Filia- the two other girls had heard what she said, giving the other a knowing wink. Just a few days ago, they had managed to buy dear Carol a sundress from a little shop and had it all wrapped up and fixed up beneath the tree for later on.  
Squigly leaned over against the counter, looking down at a small radio lined underneath the cabinet, giving the dial a light flick, listening as the sound of dead air and static hummed on for a moment, before breaking away to the more lush sound of a deep-voiced singer, dreamily crooning out a Christmas song from decades ago, filling the crowded kitchen with the warm sense of holiday spirit.

As they worked, Squigly had begun to find herself singing softly along to the song, her stitched lips parting ever so lightly to release the sweet, luscious coo of her singing voice, which seemed to echo off against the kitchen walls to the ears of Filia and Carol.

“Oh!…” Squigly blushed faintly, feeling just a tad bit embarrassed, although she saw the warm smile of Filia looking over to her, which made her feel a bit better.

“Its okay, Squigly” Filia flashed one of those warm and caring smiles she had on her face. “You can keep singing. Besides, me and Carol love to hear your performances”

Squigly could only sheepishly nod her head again, before parting her lips once more to let the sound of her lightly accented voice coo out to the ears of the other girls beside her, the sweet sound of her voice rising and falling to the pitch and tone of the crooning musician’s voice seemed to sync up into a heavenly melody that filled every inch and nook of the kitchen in a warm embrace that took the form of soft words and gentle whistling.

Filia and Carol watched the performance politely as they worked, Filia found herself gently rocking her head along as she worked, her lips vibrating as she hummed along with Squigly’s angelic voice, with Carol lightly tapping her toes against the hardwood floor in tune to the choir around her.

After a while, the voice on the radio slow died down, along the rich voice of Squigly and Filia’s soft humming, although Squigly did gently whisper-sing another song to herself as they worked. Filia, while Squigly was distracted, looked back at Carol, exchanging a knowing nod to the other, as if agreeing on some sort of secret for later on tonight.

Then, to break the soft curtain of silence once more, the sound of the beeping timer clanged out noisly from the oven, the smell of hot fresh cookies seeping out from every crack within the steel frame. Carol walked over to it and, slipping on a pair of decorative mitts, reached in and pulled out the tray of cookies, of which sat temptingly on the tray’s surface, with little chocolate chip bubbles popping and leaking small streams of rich decadance against the light, fluffy goodness around it. Filia smiled widely and looked around at all the cookies, before looking back to the others.

“You know, I think we made more than enough today. How about we go about into the living room and get ready there?”

Squigly and Carol happily nodded in agreement, undoing their aprons and tossing them into the bin on the table, Filia following suit before walking out into the living room with them.

Outside the window, they could see, heavy chunks of snowflakes fell against the window in rapid procession, slowly but surely piling up into a slightly visible mound of snow that crept up against the window like a peeping intruder, the moonlight above it making it glow with a magical twinkle to it that could only be improved on by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights against it, their colors twinkling and sparkling like stars in the sky against the plastic green needles. 

Beneath the canopy of green needles sat the small assortment of oblong boxes, wrapped in red and green papers and fitted with small tags for each recipient.

“Squigly, do you, uh, mind if we open the gifts just a bit early?” Carol asked shyly, her voice tinged with a hint of intrigue and excitement. “Or we can just wait until….”

“Of course we can, Carol. Don’t worry, I didn’t want to wait very much longer myself either” Squigly finished the sentence for her, her blue face gaining a warm smile that just oozed warmth and comfort. Carol eagerly smiled even more, walking over to the little array of presents, the other two following suit.

Carol sat bowlegged down in front of the presents, eagerly sifting through them until she found hers: a large green package wrapped in snowman wrapping paper, with a little greeting tag signed by Squigly and Fila, a message on it reading: “To Carol: We hope you like it as much as we do”.

Gingerly opening the present, Carol slipped from the green paper a large box, which itself seemed oddly decorated for something of its stature. The girl lifted the top slowly, eyes peering inside before she suddenly lifted from the package a flowing yellow sundress, its frilly laces perfectly primed and ironed into a silky gossamer that shined slightly in the lights.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Carol’s voice rose up to a much higher pitch, full of excitement and thankfulness. She moved to each one of the girls and pulled them into a tight, warm hug, grinning widely from ear to ear as she examined the dress all over.

“Don’t mention it, Carol” Filia’s cheeks were now a bit red, only to be amplified by the lights beside her face. “Me and Squigly thought you would like it, since we did hear you mention once or twice before~” She chuckled playfully under her breath, Carol giving a soft, adorable glow to her thin cheeks, her smile only getting wider.

Filia, deciding to go now and give Squigly her present after, quickly pulled from the pile of wrapping paper a small package, wrapped up in candy cane patterned wrapping paper and a blue bow smack dab on top. The schoolgirl gently removed the wrapping paper, her hands slowly opening the box beneath it to carefully peer at the inside.

Inside the box was a large book- a cookbook- to be exact, with a small plastic card taped onto the cover. This cookbook wasn’t just any cookbook, but a special cookbook full of recipes on burgers and fast-food recipies for french fries, chicken, pizzas and all sorts of other treats. The plastic card was a gift card to a local burger joint uptown that Squigly and Carol knew Filia would like to try, so it was obvious what to get her.

“Oh my gosh!” Filia grinned happily, pulling the two into a tight hug, looking down at the gifts inside the box. “This is wonderful! Thank you! Thank you!”  
Squigly and Carol wanted to say something, but just decided to accept her affectionate response and return her hug, before breaking it up for Squigly to find her gift.

Squigly looked through the mess of wrapping paper for a moment before pulling out a small, square present, wrapped in a tree-patterned paper and with a simple red bow securing it on. Gingerly, the opera singer slipped open the wrapping paper and wiggled out the tiny box inside, before gently opening the flaps and pulling out the object inside.

It was a picture frame, a simple, yet elegant picture frame made of steel and silver to form a beautifully carved spot to hold a picture in, although a picture was already inside it. The picture in question was just a simple picture of Squigly, Carol and Filia together on a day out, surrounded by shopping bags and other goodies from a recent trip to the mall for some clothes and home decor for Squigly. On the back of the frame was a small note, written in beautiful cursive ink and taped with a small plastic strip which could be made out to read.

“To Squigly: Sorry if this isn’t much, but we just decided to give you something simple. We hope you like it! Love, Carol and Filia, your two best friends”  
Squigly was silent for a moment, just staring longingly into the picture. She wasn’t mad about this gift, in fact far from it. She had the best gift she could ever wish for: friends. Friends who stayed with her despite her appearance, friends who wanted to hang out with her, friends who cared about her, friends who stood beside her and were there even now, spending time on the holiday season to give her a bit of friendship during the winter.

Slowly, a small smile rose from her lips to a wide grin, her red eye twinkling in the lights with such joy and happiness. She stayed there for a moment until both Filia and Carol slipped up beside her and gently gave her a cheeks a soft, gentle peck that last for only a short minute before pulling her into a tight caring hug.

Squigly opened her mouth to speak, but found no words, instead letting the feeling of their lips on her cheek stay for a moment until her cheeks went a deep red, her arms tightly holding them close like a protective nurturer from the winter storm outside.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Squigly’s mouth opened to speak, her voice soft and warm and gentle like a warm fire on the coldest night, her sing-song voice echoing through the bright room like a choir in a hall.

“You know, it’s pretty bad outside. And I wouldn’t want you two to go out and have to brave such weather…” Squigly smiled wider at her two friends, all nuzzled up in her warm and safe arms as if they were like big, cozy blankets. “How about you two stay the night? We could have a big Christmas sleepover”

Filia’s eyes looked up at Squigly’s, and the widest smile she had ever seen appeared on the schoolgirl’s face, Carol’s own smile wide and content as she relaxed into the hug.

“That sounds wonderful, Squigly. That really does”.

Squigly smiled even wider and held them closer, relaxing into the warmth and security of the room, her eyes not daring to look at the bitter cold snowfall outside, but instead focusing on the two most wonderful presents that surrounded her now.

And in the brightly lit room of the Contiello Manor, against a heavy snowfall under a moonlight night, beside a warm glow of a now roaring fire lit by a certain parasite to keep the guests warm and comfortable, three voices wished other a Merry Christmas.


	12. Time of the Season Part 3 (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Decided to split today's drabble into 2 parts. My apologies if it seems short, but I just got finished Finals, and I needed to take a break! Don't worry though, I'm going to see this through! And tomorrow, I'll have plenty more time to work! Thanks for sticking around and supporting me so far! I'll make sure to make them as best as I can!)

“Razmi…Razmi, dear…wake up~…”

The warmth that had draped itself so comfortably over Razmi’s lap had unfortunately faded away, leaving only the much colder, and much less comforting, feeling of the blanket around her. Razmi would have never bothered to have woken up, rather preferring to stay in her sleep, pretending that at least she had Bom still nuzzled on her lap.

But, the sound of that voice whispering to her, calling to her, it sounded so sweet, so gentle, like a mother gently waking her child for a new day to begin

And it sounded so incredibly familiar.

Slowly, Razmi began to stir, her head half-buried in the pillow slowly shifting to look at the source of the voice calling her name. It was at that point, she felt the presence of Bom’s paws gingery rubbing against her hands, and the weight of her head resting comfortable on top of her raven black hair. 

That alone, was enough to make her feel somewhat better.

Turning to the sound of the voice, Razmi at once suspected who it was.

“What is it, Thorani?”

Great. Maybe Thorani heard her talking in here, and came to check up on her. How was she going to explain she had just sat talking to her dead tiger, who wasn’t actually her dead tiger, but a ghost acting as it, and how would she explain the mess of clothes, smashed furniture, and food covering the room?

With excuses turning around in her head, Razmi turned over, expecting to see the deva in her bathrobe, worriedly pulling her into a tight, vice-like hug and trying to get her to drink her hair water again...

Except, it wasn’t Thorani before her.

It LOOKED like Thorani, except she could tell at that moment it wasn’t

The woman before her had the features of Thorani, but changed ever so slightly as to let Razmi know it wasn’t, like a quick copy of her made at just a glance. Thorani’s dark brown skin was replaced with a shimmering translucent light, like a contrast shadow that flickered brightly in the darkness to form the natural curves of a woman’s body. The figure’s hair was shaped like Thorani’s hair, except each sphere of water and hair was composed of shining silver orbs, in a chain so long it trailed off the end of the bed, down the ladder, and onto the floor below. A robe of beautiful silk white flowed along the figure’s form, passing her feet that wore golden sandals that gave off a sprinkling of sand that twinkled for a moment before fading away onto the bedsheets. In the woman’s hands, she held what seemed to be a bundle of something that she cradled in both arms, occasionally fixing the bundle ever so slightly, or softly whispering to it before returning her attention back to the shaman. 

“Ah, hello, darling~…” the voice poured from a warm smile on the woman’s face, sounding like Thorani’s naturally motherly voice but with more a reverbing echo that filled the room after every sentence. “You’re finally awake~. I hope I didn’t startle you too badly~”

“Thorani, what are you doing? And what’s the deal with the light stuff? Is this something devas do or…?”

Razmi paused for a moment, before looking over the woman again, remembering Bom from before. It wasn’t Bom, but merely a copy of him, something Razmi was familiar with.  
“  
You…you’re not Thorani, are you?”

A sweet giggle poured from the woman’s lips, and a hand reached out to playfully pinch and tug at Razmi’s cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear! No, I’m not Thorani! I’m the Spirit of New Life, the Goddess of Fertility! I only took this form since it is the one you would associate me most with! But don’t you worry a single hair on your little head! I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of! I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you! Here, take this sweet to make you feel better, since you mortals must be so terrified of ghosts and spirits!”

That warm genuine smile. The sweet tender voice. How welcoming and motherly she sounded. Even the way she handed Razmi a little wrapped candy she pulled from…wherever…was enough to bring the idea of Thorani sitting in front of her, offering her a glass of water as she squeezed it from her hair.

Yup. She got the Thorani part down pat. All she needed was the sometimes overbearing affection and she could have passed for the real deal.

Taking the candy and putting it beside her- not out of any concern it was poison, but just to hold onto, since when do you get candy from spirits that looked like a hot deva?- Razmi, with all the surprise and fear you’d expect from someone who just last week attempted to create a mass séance to contact the dead and in the process nearly set the house on fire so the dead could notice, merely looked at her and scratched her head.

“So, well, uh…if you’re the Spirit of New Life, or whatever…what are you here for?”

“To teach you the magic of celebrating Life, silly! You’re always so doom and gloom, so I want to show you that new life is something worth being joyful over!”

Silence. Pure, absolute silence.

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m not doing that. “ Razmi fell back into bed and pulled the blankets up over herself. “I know you’re supposed to “teach me the spirit of the season” yada yada…” 

She said, talking in a ridiculous deep voice that she normally reserved just for Dhar. “But I’m not going to have you give me some lecture about how I should be sunshine and sparkles.” 

She felt sick just saying the words sunshine and sparkles.

“But, dear…” said Thor- the Spirit of New Life, gasping in surprise. “Who said anything about giving you a lecture?”

“Wait, you’re not giving me a big speech about changing my ways, or “stop being so miserable”, or “you’re not allowed by the oven anymore without supervision?” stuff?”

“Uh…no, but those are things we can improve on!” smiled the Spirit, her smile just as radiant and as sweet as Thorani’s own smile.

“Just get to the point”

“Well, you see, I’m going to take you back, back to the past where you were only but a precious little child, so curious about the world around her! So full of life and love and…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean, take me back? Like, time-travel?”

“In a sense, yes, but…”

“Finally!” Razmi threw her hands in the air with delight, giddy with excitement. “Finally one of you does something cool! Yeah, sure, it’s not spitting slime out of your mouth or making me talk in tongues, but I can deal with time-traveling”

The Spirit looked at her, confused, but still gave a supportive smile, flicking her hair back just as Thorani would do.

“Oh, see! Now you’re getting excited! This will be so much fun! Now, I understand that it might be a bit terrifying to go back in time, but just know that I will be right here to protect, Razzie!”

“Scared? Scared of what? I would LOVE to go back and….wait, what did you say?”

“I’ll be here to protect to keep you safe, Razzie!” The Spirit opened her arms as if Razmi would run into them for a hug. “You don’t have to fake being brave! If you’re scared, I will be right here!”

Oh yeah, definitely Thorani.

“Alright, listen, first off…NEVER, and I mean, NEVER call me Razzie. If you do that again, I will have Bom here set you on fire”

“I’m a ghost, sweetie!”

“Irrelevant! Second, I’m not scared of going back in time! I’d love to go back in time when I was a kid. It was awesome! Me and Bom, doing whatever we wanted, no one to tell us what to do”

“Well, then, would you want to, how do kids say it today….hit the bricks?”

Razmi nodded, giving that smile that reminded you of both a serial killer and the innocent glee of a gas-mask wearing lunatic with a flamethrower. 

The Spirit laughed with glee, her eyes lighting- well, lighting up more- as she looked over to the shaman, who was busy talking to Bom about what they were going to do when they got back to the past. Maybe torch that one kid’s house who made fun of her. Maybe find his old chewing bone they lost in the woods.

“So, how do we do this? Do you just wave your hands and throw me through a portal? Because that would be sweet”

“Haha, no, no, my child! Nothing so dangerous! You see these orbs that comprise my hair? How each are carved with a date? Well, they represent a time in someone’s lifespan, and when like selecting a date on the calendar, it allows one to travel back to that time. Isn’t that fun?”

“Yeah, a hoot in a half, now can we PLEASE get to the time-travel?”

This was Razmi being serious- as she rarely ever said please.

The Spirit nodded and, clutching the bundle closer, moved her long braided “hair” over to Razmi. True to her word, each silvery orb was marked with characters and dates, symbols and numbers. It looked like an ancient calendar, so much to the point that some of the earlier dates had faded away into scratches and smudges. The rest only went up to yesterday’s date, resembling more like a half-carved series of letters hewn into the silver. 

The Spirit placed her hand on one particular orb, and slowly lifted it from the rest, like lifting a link from a chain. The sphere shimmered in her hand, the silver shell around it trembling and glittering as the woman handed it to Razmi. As she did so, the silver began to “crack”, slowly letting beams of light pour out from the inside of the sphere, like an egg breaking open. The light was warm, enticing, rippling out into the darkness like ocean waves, like waves of fire that matched the shaman’s lantern. 

There was a sudden whoosh of air, like a door flying open, and the rest of the sphere burst open into Razmi’s hands, letting the rest of the golden light explode into the room. The heat of the light instantly washed over Razmi, before there was a sensation of being pulled forward, despite her still sitting in bed. Her body felt light, like it was it floating through the cosmic ocean of light that now engulfed her and the Spirit. It could be described as being weightless, yet being weighted down. The air smelled of rich perfume and smoke, the light pulsed and brightened as Razmi would be moved closer into the blinding light.

Then, there was a feeling of pure emptiness, a feeling that could only be described as numb. The feeling of your skin would become rigid, still, not even the hairs on your legs or feet would move. Your lips would feel heavy, your tongue would swirl and wiggle languidly in your mouth in jerking motions. Even your heart would slow down, every thump sounding a slow, dragging thud, and your lungs would feel filled with wet sludge, making every breath feel slow and resonating with great weight. 

And as soon as everything faded away, came the feeling of bitter cold on Razmi’s face. The tender kiss of white snow on her pale skin, the gentle brush of winter’s icy fingers running through her raven black hair. The sound of blowing wind and rustling trees above her head echoed in her ears, distant shadows of a far-off canopy high above her let little droplets of white covered her face. The shaman felt dead, yet in the same way, the feeling of being brought back.

True, while she was interested in what it was like to die, she never thought it would be so, well, confusing. As to prove she wasn’t dead, the feeling of weight returned to her body, and above the echo of blowing wind and frost, Razmi heard Thorani, no the Spirit’s, voice rise above her, and whisper so delicately into her ear.

“Razmi…Razmi, dear, wake up~….”


	13. Time of the Season Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of yesterday!

There was the sensation of grogginess, followed by the sensation that one could only compare to being kicked in the back by a horse, and left to sleep on a bed of rocks. This sensation then faded away to a tingle, that traveled all over Razmi’s body, before that to melted into the blurry, hazy sight of Thorani- read: the Spirit of New Life- standing over her with a worried look on her face  
“Oh dear! Seems I’m a bit rusty at doing this, I’m afraid.” The woman knelt to sweetly help Razmi to her feet, with all the tenderness in her touch that only could be matched by the woman she was copying. “How do you feel, little one?”  
“Kind of dead…”  
“Oh no! Well, here, just relax for a few moments and we’ll…”  
“I kinda like it.”  
The Spirit, although still confused by this particular mortal’s bizarre taste in the morbid, gave a supportive smile- as long as Razmi was happy, she was happy.  
“Well then, splendid! As long as you are comfortable then, I guess”  
Razmi slowly stumbled to her feet, balancing against the Spirit for a moment, before suddenly pulling back- although of course the Spirit didn’t mind- and getting her own composure.  
Bom? Check.  
Lantern? Check.  
Lucky snake fang with the venom still in it? Check.  
Yup, she was all there in one piece at least. Now, that was left to do was see where exactly they were.  
“So, uh, where are we?” Razmi looked to the Spirit, wiping a bit of frost from her “Slime Time” sweater she got for her birthday. “You said we were going back to the past, right? How do I know you didn’t just knock me and leave me out in the woods?”  
“Darling, I would never do something like that!” The Spirit laughed before squeezing Razmi’s cheek. “Tell me, does any of the surroundings look at all familiar?”  
Razmi batted the woman’s hand from her cheek, and looked around. All she saw were a bunch of frost-tinted trees huddled for miles beneath the dark cloudy sky, half-frozen ponds of mud and scum churning beneath the slush-ridden surface, and in the distance, where the frozen earth turned to stone, the entrance to a cavern. The entrance to the cave was half-hidden behind a veil of frozen vines and dead wilted flowers that jutted down from the ruins above, icicles hanging like sharp teeth of a vicious beast from the roof of the entrance with jagged rocks surrounding the rest of the hill, leaving only a small trail to come up to it.  
It looked by no means welcoming, especially in this cold weather. In fact, it looked like some place where bodies were hidden in some terrible horror story. The distant smells of earth and frost mingled with the strange aroma of smoke that seemed to trickle from the entrance of the ancient cavern.  
And to Razmi, it did look very familiar.   
“Yeah, yeah, I know this place. Bom and I used to hang out where when I was little.”  
The Spirit smiled again, her glowing hair blowing in the gentle breeze of the wind. She pointed over to the cavern entrance, holding the bundle she held in her hands closer. For a moment, Razmi could swear the bundle moved, shifting in her arms for a moment before settling into the nook of her elbow.  
“What a coincidence then. In fact, I think I hear him now…”  
“Wait, Bom, where is he? Is he…?”  
Razmi’s question was answered in the form of a low growl, and the rustling of bushes behind her. A shadow slunk behind the icy branches and withered foliage, before the form of a tiger strode out from the forest.  
The tiger was an impressive beast of nature. Sleek orange and black fur that shimmered with the drops of ice that melted upon the great heat of its sturdy, strong body. It moved with limber, quick strides, as if at any moment it would break into a full-on dash and leap towards its prey. Its eyes gazed out across the valley floor, unfeeling, as cold as the wind that lashed the drops of blood that stained its face. In the tiger’s powerful jaw, torn by sharp teeth, was the remains of a dead animal, torn to shreds by the tiger’s claws, leaving only trails of sinew and meat that dripped in pools beneath the tiger’s steps.  
Bom was quite the beast back then. It almost would be unbelievable that such a furious savage primal could find itself resting on the head of a grumpy gothic shaman.  
Razmi smiled as she saw her tiger friend dragging its meal towards the cave. That was just as she remembered him- strong, furious, vicious. To be honest, she always missed the sight of seeing him striding across the valley beside her, hearing him purr and roar in even the darkest nights, the warmth and security he bought that he could provide aside from keeping her head warm.  
“Boomm! Bom! Hey Bom, over here, ya big idiot…” Razmi shouted over to Bom, watching as she strode over the rocks and up the trail to the cave. For a second, Bom stopped, looked around, and then kept walking, until disappearing through the vines and into the cave.  
“He can’t hear you, Razmi, dear…” The Spirit shook her head, moving in front of the shaman, motioning her to follow. “He can’t even see us. We’re merely observers of the past, the audience for a show we have already played our part in, a visitor to the…  
“I get it, I get it, jeez.”  
The Spirit slowly began to walk up to the cave entrance, Razmi following close behind her. Following the trails of blood on the rocks and grass, they climbed up the trail, as Razmi had done before, and pushed their way into the cave, where the smell of black, dirty smoke and firewood greeted them.  
“So, do you mentioned you used to stay around here, did you not, Razzie, darling?”  
“First okay, call me Razzi one more time…and second, yeah, Bom and I….we used to live her, at least for a bit.”  
“Why? Didn’t you have a family? I’m sure your mother and father were worried sick, a child hanging out with such a vicious bloodthirsty tiger!”  
“My parents, ha! I don’t even remember them anyway. You could tell me I was pulled out of slime and thrown into the woods. If I am made of slime though, that would be pretty cool, right?”  
“You never met your parents?”  
“Don’t know, don’t care. As long as I have Bom…” Razmi pat her tiger’s head affectionately, at least as affectionately as she could be. “I was happy”  
The two descended deeper into the cave, following the sound of Bom’s paws scraping against the rocks and the ever-growing cackle of fire against wet rocks. The walls of the cave began to smooth out, to grow wider, eventually opening all the way into a small, yet spacious looking inner chamber, the opening to which was laden with two rows of spikes made from sharpened bamboo sticks, leaving only a small space that a child, or a tiger, could slip through.  
It was fortunate that, thanks to whatever magic the Spirit had, Razmi could easily walk through the spikes without being, say, impaled through the gut. But, fortunately for the Spirit, Razmi’s jokes about once almost getting a couple of idiot kids who wandered in to run into the spikes provided the…colorful imagery of being impaled just as well.  
Inside the chamber, it seemed fashioned into a small hovel.. The rock floor that faded away into soft, damp moss provided ample carpet, in which patches of illuminating, glowing green mushrooms provided some decent light, aside from the small roaring fire in the center of the chamber, fed by a combination of rotting tree bark, dead mushrooms, and the occasional animal bone beneath a tripod holding a black iron pot. A wooden bookcase balanced on two rock spires held a collection of dusty old books, some water damaged, some falling apart, and a couple of glass jars filled with murky colorful liquids that seemed to shimmer and swirl of their own accord. A small stream of freshwater poured down from a hole in the top of the chamber, splashing down along the rocks to pool in a small trench that ran off into deeper parts of the cavern, filling the chamber in a soft steam as drops of water hit the heated rocks of the fire. At the far back, past a small collection of animal bones, looked like a small ramshackle hut- only a patchwork of tree branches and furs to form a roof over an enclave of rocks, where sandwiched underneath it was a woven bed of long dried grasses. It looked pretty well-lived in, if any of the refuse and bones could be any indication.   
In the corner of the chamber, Bom was nestled near the pile of animal bones, his back to the duo, eating messily away at his fresh kill. It seemed, however, he was waiting for someone, occasionally taking looks back to the entrance or into the bedspace, before going back to eating.  
“You used to live here, it seems then?” The Spirit asked, as if not knowing the answer, pointing to the small slept-in grass bed, which seemed ruffled from human contact  
“Well, yeah, at least we used to. In the summer here it was nice, but when it got cold, and we both got bigger, we moved out a bit father from Ashwat, in that little shack.” Razmi chuckled, letting out only a small bit of nostalgia shine through. “But still, it was nice to come back here. Quiet, no people at all, lots of slime and mushrooms. If Gingseng were here, they’d go nuts.”  
Then, Razmi paused and looked around, noticing the one thing missing from the whole picture.  
“Say, where am I anyway?”  
The Spirit giggled again, motioning towards her bundle, which seemed to shift at her touch. The blankets covering it moved, and she slowly set it down onto the damp moss.  
“Why, Razz…I mean, Razmi, you’re right here! You’ve always been right here, you just don’t see it yet!”  
“…What”  
In answer to Razmi’s dumbstruck, annoyed expression at whatever the hell she meant, the bundle began to move again. Something inside it shuffled forward, before a small head- the head of a baby- popped out from the blanket, looking up at Razmi with big cute eyes.  
“Uh…what?”  
The baby slowly began to crawl away from the duo, crawling along the moss floor and over towards Bom, who was still hungrily eating his kill. As the baby got closer, it began to slowly change. It seemed to get bigger, a bit taller, until it began to walk upright, unsteady at first but then slowly maturing to a full-on stride. Then, with one final step, the now-tall, able figure stood behind Bom, who turned around to see who it was.  
“Hey Bom…” said the young Razmi, fixing her fur coat over her muddied clothes. “See ya got dinner. Save any for me?”  
Bom, as if understanding the girl, slowly moved away, allowing the younger Razmi to reach down and tear off a piece of meat from the carcass. The girl smirked as she watched the slimey sinew drip down to her feet, the blood splattering her dog skin breeches.   
“You must have been hungry today, huh, Bom?” Razmi asked, scratching behind the tiger’s ears, hearing him purr in delight. “You tore…whatever this guy was, up! At least you left some to eat”  
Peeling the meat from the bone, Razmi jammed the meat onto a sharpened stick and placed it above the fire, watching as the pink meat turned into a golden crispy brown color. As soon as the meat was crispy enough to look more like it had been burned, Razmi took the meat, blew on it (even shamans follow the rules of food) and took a vicious bite, sighing as the taste of fresh food filled her stomach.  
Now, older Razmi- present Razmi- was watching herself eat in confusion, a bit lost in what exactly was going on. She had just gotten over the whole baby thing, but now, what exactly was the point of watching her younger self eat?  
As the younger Razmi sat, gnawing on her dinner, she reached over into her bag- a barely held together sack that seemed to be falling apart at the seems- and pulled out an old book, the words so faded and worn that even their ancient language would have been more readable. Opening it to a select page, Razmi began to read through it, carefully placing a black nail onto the words and paging through it as she ate.  
“Look, Thorani, Spirit, whatever you are…” Razmi looked over at the woman beside her, a mix of confusion and somewhat agitation spread on her face. “I get it it’s cool and all to see, uh, younger me eat and read, but if you want me to do that, we can go back and I’ll do that for you in bed”  
“No, no, dear…” The Spirit closed her eyes and shook her head, pointing to that of Bom, eating his way through the rest of the kill. “We’re here to show you what it means to celebrate new life.”  
“Again, what.”  
“You’ll see. Tell me, do you know what kind of animal that was?”  
“Uh, looks like it was a…ram, or a goat or something? Whatever it was, Bom killed it good.” Razmi pat Bom’s head, scratching at his limp ears. ‘Didn’t ya, Bom? Didn’t ya rip it apart? Didn’t ya?”  
“And…where do most goats near Ashwat come from?”  
“What is this, a geography quiz? You’re worse than Dhar, I swear…” Razmi sighed. “They used to farm goats near Ashwat, at least what Ajna told me. Used ‘em for milk, for meat, maybe…just because they liked goats, I dunno.”  
The Spirit looked at Razmi again, a look of concern flashing across her face, as if worried to tell Razmi something. Before she could, there was the sound of something banging, followed by the sound of something- or someone- running into the cave.  
“I saw it! I saw it go in here!”  
“Come on! Follow the blood!”  
“I’m gonna wear that bastard for what it did!”  
From the interior of the cave, three shadows leapt across the walls, huge burly shadows, carrying what seemed to be heavy spears and shields, howling and barking, illuminated by the glow of their burning torches. One of them pointed downwards towards the entrance of the chamber, and the sound of rocks being thrown followed suit  
At the center of the fire, young Razmi jumped up, and as if having done this before, quickly scrambled towards the fire and threw a mound of dirt onto it, watching as the fire’s bright light died out to a few embers before fading into nothing. She then quickly ran over behind the rocks, throwing herself into the darkness behind Bom.   
Bom, on the other hand, stood up, growling ferociously in response. With blood still dripping from his teeth, the tiger prowled towards the entrance of the cave, glaring for the intruders as they ran down towards their den.  
“Wait a minute, wait…I remember what happened here…”  
Then, from the darkness, cast in flame, came the three men, all wearing what seemed to be farming attire from Ashwat, robes streaked in blood and dirt, scraggly rough beards, and each carrying bladed heavy spears and makeshift shields of wood and repurposed iron. One of them cast a torch over into the darkness, seeing Bom’s tail sweep over the moss before fading away into the dark.  
“There! There it is! Get it!”  
“Keep yer light on him! It’ll get us in the darkness here!”  
One of the farmers swung the torch again, flashing the fiery light towards Bom’s direction, letting the tongue of flame catch the light of Bom’s eyes glittering in the darkness. As soon as the light hit him, Bom leapt out, howling in a vicious, violent warcry.  
The man leapt back and jumped, only for the tips of Bom’s claw to come down and tear through his clothes, leaving large red marks that pulsed across his chest. Cursing in pain, the man slipped back, spitting into Bom’s eye, which did nothing more than provoke the tiger even more.   
The second man jumped in, immediately taking his spear and swinging it at Bom, the spear’s tip missing only by a few inches. At seeing his attack fail, the second man grabbed his shield and swung it, hearing the metal crash against Bom’s side before letting out a laugh of victory. Bom growled in pain, before turning his attention to the other man, scratching him twice across the stomach, blood spraying onto the rocks, while the man screamed in pain.   
“Bom! Bom!” Razmi found herself shouting, despite the fact Bom couldn’t even hear her. “Get back! Bom, get back!” She didn’t know why she was screaming- she knew what was going to happen, but still, it felt a bit better to at least pretend and try to do something.  
The third man came up from behind Bom, tossing his spear towards the beast- Bom leapt away from it, the jagged tip impaling itself into the rock behind him. Swinging his torch towards his face, the man drove Bom back a bit more, before screaming to his comrades again.   
“Here! Quickly! Get him now!”  
The first man looked up, having staggered to his feet, before quickly reacting. Grabbing his own spear, he ran forward, ducking just underneath Bom’s claws before thrusting his arms forward.  
And the sound Bom made broke Razmi’s heart.  
The spear hung from Bom’s side loosely, but still buried enough into stay inside of him. Bom, howling in both pain and fury, swung his claws again, jumping forwards to savagely bite into the third man’s shoulder, only to be punched by the second man, letting the flow of blood ooze out from the wound in the man’s shoulder.   
Then, one of the men grabbed a large rock and tossed it, letting it crack against Bom’s jaw, making the wounded animal recoil in pain, before suddenly stumbling to the ground. The first man reached for his spear again, only for the second man to stop him.  
“No! Let’s go…we hurt it pretty bad. It wouldn’t be able to survive a spear to the side, not like that. We’ll check back in the morning, and if it’s not dead, we’ll put a few more in him.”  
“But, we can kill it now….!”  
“He’s right! You’re bleeding pretty bad, and so are we. If we stay here any longer, Kala knows what’ll happen to us. We’ll leave and come back later with more men. Either way of any outcome, he’s dead and that is all.”  
The second and third men, blood soaking their clothes, stumbled back, leaning on each other as they shouted for the first man to come back. The first man began to follow, before suddenly turning around and picking up a large fist-sized rock and treading slowly over to Bom.  
Razmi wanted to run out, she wanted to run out and just turn the man to ashes. To watch him scream in pain as the fire ate at his flesh, to watch his bones turn to black ash, to watch him beg and suffer just as he did to Bom.  
But she didn’t have to.  
Instead, younger Razmi ran out, screaming and calling Bom’s name.  
“Bom! Bom! Bom, are you okay!”  
The man stopped, dumfounded as he watched this young girl in raggedy clothes come after the tiger. He dropped the rock in shock, walking over to Razmi as she began to look Bom over.  
“A…a kid?! What the hell is a kid doing here?”  
Razmi looked back, glaring furiously at the man, grabbing a small iron lantern from beside the burned out fire, swinging it at him like a weapon.  
“G…get back! You get back! Now!”  
The man put his hands up, the blood soaking through his fingers to ruin any attempt at seeming non-threating.   
“Kid, kid, it’s okay…calm down! I’m here to help. Get away from that monster. He’ll kill you just as he did to the goats in Ashwat!”  
Razmi didn’t answer, instead placing a hand on Bom’s chest. There was a heartbeat- weak, but still there.  
“I’m from Ashwat….come with me, please. We have people there….good people! We can help you! Get you some food, a bath, wouldn’t that be nice?”  
“Stay…stay back…”  
“Listen, you have to get back. This thing probably killed your parents, didn’t it? It’s a good thing we showed when we did.” He knelt down and offered his crimson dripped hand to the girl. “Come with me…”  
And then, then, Razmi glared. Sure, she glared before- a glare of anger, that she was upset, but it was most of the time for something stupid. Ren using up the hot water in the shower. Hunoch and Xiboch being loud practicing. Ajna lecturing her about leaving her dirty clothes on her bed.   
But this, this was different.  
The pure anger, the pure furious rage Razmi felt in that moment was beyond words. The feeling of anger that all she wanted to do was hurt this man as bad as he hurt Bom, to make him suffer and whimper and beg, that if ANYTHING happened to her friend, she would do twofold onto this man before her.  
The man jumped back as he saw her staring at her like that, her eyes cold, dead, unmoving, one hand resting on Bom’s matted fur while the other held the lantern up like a shield.   
“K..kid, come on…” The man sounded afraid, as if the glare alone sucked any confidence from his heart. “This isn’t a joke dammit! Come with me…now!”  
As soon as the man stuck his hand out, Razmi bit it. Not a child’s bite, but a hard bite. The man shrieked in pain, cursing at this “damn brat” before throwing his hand into the air, looking at the bite mark she had made.   
“Leave…now. Or, or…I’ll set you on fire and scatter your bones with a rock…”  
The words, the cold, hateful words, were enough to make the man finally understand. Scowling coldly back at Razmi, the man spit at her before gripping his wounds and hurrying off to join his friends.  
Razmi looked disgusted, sick- and that took a lot from her to make her feel that. She felt mad, like she wanted to run after that idiot and his friends, to just…just…she didn’t even know what she wanted to do.  
“Spirit, why…why are you showing me this? I don’t want to see this. I thought you were about new life or some thing stupid…”  
The Spirit, with a gentle comforting smile, placed a soothing hand on Razmi’s shoulder and pointed to Bom and younger Razmi, who was now sorting through a mess of jars on the shelf, looking for something.  
“Remember, young shaman. This happened before. You remember what happened, don’t you? Then why do you worry? The message is at the end?”  
Looking back to her younger self, Razmi watched as the younger her ran back to Bom, carrying a jar of glowing green slime. She knew what that was from her books- something loosely called Healing Slime, a sort of sticky adhesive that could quickly cure any wounds and cuts, but it just needed the right type of ingredients- and the right type of person- to know how to make it.  
The younger Razmi took the slime from the jar, and began to quickly rub it on Bom’s wound, watching as the blood and slime began to mix together. The smell of glowing mushrooms and septic filled the air, and the sound of Razmi’s sobs, half-choked between wet coughs- followed suit.  
Bom laid still under Razmi’s care, his breath slow, laborious, the blood pouring from cuts on his jaw, minor yes but Razmi paid close attention to them. She mumbled under her breath, begging something to work, as if begging the spirits for her shaman skill to at least work.   
Razmi felt like running out to help, to at least tell her younger self what to do. But, not only would that impossible, but the Spirit gently reminded her to wait, to keep watching, that even if it hurt to see, she knew how it would end.  
Then, all was silent. Razmi’s sobs echoed into the dark cavern, her voice echoing off the wet splashes of water and the howling wind outside. She fell on top of Bom, her tears soaking his fur more than any amount of blood could ever do, her hands running all along his fur, as if to cradle him as he laid still on the rock.  
And suddenly, a low, rumbling growl, followed by a deep snorting purr.  
Razmi looked over at Bom, watching as slowly but surely his head started to sway back and forth, looking up before laying back down. Her fingers traced the spot where his spear wound had been, feeling only the thick natural layer of slime slowly clot over the wound. The blood was already beginning to dry in black chunks, and the feeling of Bom’s chest moving up and down began to grow a bit more steady.  
“B..bom..Bom are you okay?” a sob-laden whisper slipped from Razmi’s lips.  
Another low growl answered, and she felt Bom shift beneath her, a paw jutting out to rub against the rocks, as if he was stretching.  
“Bom…I…I…” Razmi, at seeing her tiger slowly begin to stir a bit more, leaned over and hugged him close, her arms squeezing gently at the tiger’s massive frame. “Bom…I was so scared…”  
Another growl responded, and the tiger shifted again, raising its head to nuzzle on Razmi’s cheek, before purring again. His chest moved up and down a bit more- the potion was working, slowly, but it was working.  
Even from their distance, Razmi could see- and still remember- how wide her younger self was smiling as she hugged her friend, how the relief that he wasn’t going to die, at least not yet, was overtaking her.  
“Do you see now, Razmi?”  
“See what? I…I still don’t understand.”  
“New Life. You’ve given your friend a new life. Even if it wasn’t through birth, it was through the action of your care that restored life to him. In rebirth, a new life is formed, but in new life, a new person is first born.”  
“All I did was help my friend…Bom, I mean.” Razmi let out a small smile, gingerly stroking Bom’s limp paw on her hand. “Sure, I couldn’t keep him alive forever but I at least bought him a couple more years…”  
The Spirit giggled warmly, her body shimmering like a beautiful fire in the darkness. Her hair floated behind her, the silvery orbs rolling and sparkling in succession, her dress glowing a soft white as she placed a hand on Razmi’s cheek.  
And this time, Razmi didn’t pull away just yet.  
“You showed yourself as a new person, even if you didn’t know it. How you became more withdrawn from the world around you, you saw their cruelty and their blindness, and once you saw it, all acts of compassion became meaningless to you. But in the same sense, when the time came, you helped your friend when he needed you most. A new person was born, in the spiritual sense, it became you.”  
Razmi didn’t answer- she only looked back at herself, with that soft smile and the few tears running down her eyes, hugging Bom tight, the tiger still growling and purring with slowly rebuilding energy. And a small smile remained on the usually dreadful look on her face.   
“Can….can we go...? This cave is getting dust in my eyes...”  
“Of course, my dear. Here, take my hand, and we’ll be home as soon as you open your eyes…”  
Before Razmi could protest, the Thorani-like woman took her hand, and softly squeezed it. There was a shimmer of bright, burning light and everything feel away again, leaving only the whoosh of air and the sensation of numbness wash over her once more.  
When she opened her eyes again, she half-expected to be in a tree or in the middle of a desert or beneath Kannul again with the slime, but instead found only the softness of her bed beneath her, and the familiar aroma of food and laundry of her and Ajna’s room.  
Dammit. She wanted to at least have the slime option this time.  
“Ooh…my head…” Razmi, still feeling the pounding in her head, looked around, seeing only the darkness of the room around her.  
That, and the Spirit of New Life, bundle in her arms and all, sitting at the edge of her bed.  
“There, now? Comfortable?”  
“Well, you could at least stop throwing me around like that. My head hurts, and I feel like Leliani’s been going to town on my guts”  
“Well, don’t worry. We won’t be going anywhere in the past anymore.” The Spirit rested a hand on her knee, smiling that comforting warm smile. “My time with you is over, I’m sorry to say.”  
“Yeah, great…at least I can get some…” Razmi shook her head, realizing what that meant. “You mean the other two are coming, right?”  
“Mhm” The Spirit nodded in agreement. “The Spirit of Remembrance will be here soon.” The Spirit looked a bit sad, ashamed for a moment. “I’m…sorry if I caused you any discomfort. I know how hard the past must be to swallow again”  
Razmi wanted to say something snarky, but for some reason, she couldn’t. She instead shook her head and sighed.   
“No, it’s….fine. It already happened once, and I healed Bom up. He didn’t die then, so…at least it had a happy ending. And normally I hate that kind of stuff”  
The Spirit offered another smile, just as Thorani would do. She gave Razmi’s leg a squeeze, before giggling softly.  
“You’ll be alright, my dear. I promise. You’re well on your way to understand the spirit of the celebration. If anything I at least showed you a reason to understand why, and what you do with it is what you wish”  
Razmi wondered for a moment. True, that did sound like nonsense just hours ago- about celebrating a new person, new life in a world that was as insane and as dangerous as one could imagine- but now, now it actually sounded a bit more reasonable. To grow and change through one’s actions, to have a new person created by the things we do. Hell, she had shed her normally isolated self to at least hang out with Ajna and everyone, even if they did drive her insane half the time. Wasn’t that becoming a new person, stepping into a new life?  
Of course, she didn’t want to sound all mushy saying THAT to the Spirit, so she only nodded and gave a small smirk.  
“Yeah, yeah, joy to the world and all that. Just…well, I guess, thanks…? Or, whatever?”  
“Oh, it’s no concern at all, Razmi, dear. Please, just take what I showed you to heart, and know that no matter what, a new life is celebrated though every day we make”  
At that, the Spirit of New Life blew Razmi a kiss- in the same way you know who do in that motherly affectionate way- before standing up.   
“Now, if you excuse me, I have to meet with the Spirit of Seafarers. She is such a doll that one! She’s always so sweet to me! Never understood the rumors of her being such a loud and boisterous woman…”  
Now, that sounded oddly familiar to Razmi.  
As the Spirit of New Life slowly began to fade away, she turned back to the shaman and gave a wink, her silver hair of orbs swirling into a spiral that she began to slip into, leaving only gold sparkles that hung in the air like firework traces.  
“Before I go….please, be kind to the Spirit of Remembrance. You’ll know what form he takes, don’t worry. He’s a good man, just a bit, well, athletic…if you catch my drift. Have a happy holidays….Razzie~!”  
And with that, the Spirit of New Life disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Razmi all alone in the darkness. With Bom still comfortably nestled on her shoulders.  
“Finally….at least you and I have some time to relax, huh, Bom, ya big dumb dead…” Razmi would have finished her playful teasing before instead, as if recalling something from her past, stopped, chuckled and hugged Bom’s head, whispering as long as no one was around.  
“Love ya, ya big dumb dead tiger, you~. As long as I got you in the lantern, we’ll never be apart. New Life junk or not”  
Razmi looked back to the lantern, still flickering with reassuring brightness and warmth above her head, gave it a little tap and relaxed in bed, taking in the silence as she waited for the other spirit to arrive in this long, weird night.  
What did she mean by athletic though? And what did she mean by he’d come in a form she’d know the most?  
Maybe the form of a big buff guy? Maybe in a guy covered in, what, Tlatchlibol gear and talking like a dumb sports jock? Jeez, she could live with only two of those guys and one of them wasn’t even…  
Wait a minute.   
Razmi took a deep breath- if the messenger was Bom, and the first one took the form of Thorani, than that meant…  
“Ah, damn”


	14. Ring-a-Ding Girl

>You are lucky to be dating a Black Egret  
>Something that itself should hold a lot of clout, like in the sense being related to a movie star, or a guy that was in prison a few times. Street cred, you know?  
>And not just any Black Egret!  
>But, the top Communications Officer of the whole shebang  
>Molly!  
>After a chance meeting during a call to the Canopy Kingdom “Skullgirls and You!: A Royal Informational Hotline”, you and Molly found yourselves talking more than stuff about how to properly line your walls with Theonite-enriched lead to keep skeletons from stealing your pets  
>Maybe it was that cute voice that got so bashful when she accidentally read a lunch order instead of how to deal with resurrected grandparents.  
>Maybe it was how professional, yet so sweet she sounded when she talked, like she was speaking directly to you, not just over the phone to some stranger  
>Maybe it was the way the conversation somehow switched from Skullgirls to talking about your favorite ringtone to hear- you prefer the more ambient, Eno-esque soundscape design while Molly prefers the classical ring-a-ding home sound.   
>One thing lead to another, and, well, let’s just say she calls you every day.  
>Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before bed  
>You might think it gets annoying, but Molly just has that perfect “call-girl” (and you mean in the literal sense) personality that makes every phone call wonderful to hear.  
>You only get to see her every weekend, due to her job being hectic and all, but you and her don’t mind.  
>Besides, seeing those cute brown curls and those shy glittering eyes when she fixes her glasses so sheepishly is always something to wait for.  
>And, this being your first Christmas together, she calls you every day to play a little ringtone of Jingle Bells before asking you how your day is going.  
>She’s excited to tell you all about her own plans for the holiday, one of which she can’t wait for is getting to take a night off, and spend it at the royal Christmas party they throw for all the top brass and big-shots.  
>Molly promises to get you in with her, that later this weekend when she’s on lunch shift, she’ll take you out to get some new clothes.  
>Of course, you already own some nice clothes, but to see Molly in a nice new dress, maybe one with some sparkles on the front, or a nice swing dress with a cute ribbon on the waist.  
>Molly even calls you to update you with special shopping deals she found in the mail, or random updates about the party to the point it is even the most minute detail.  
>”Okay, Anon, I just found out from these catering reports there’s going to be a lot of shrimp. And Roxie is going to be wearing that riveter dress, so do you think I should get something to match, or…”  
>”Molly, I’m on the train, can I call back?”  
>”…well, I don’t want to hold you up, but I just wanted to let you know that the party starts at 5:45, instead of 5:30, so be here a bit earlier!”  
>But one day, you decide to call Molly up, seeing as for some reason, she hasn’t called you all day like usual.  
>You have to call a few times, and never get an answer. Stranger still, she calls you back later, sounding a bit depressed.  
>”Ah, Anon, I’m sorry to tell ya, but…I just found out we’ve been overhauling the relay system for the new year, and I’m going to be swamped for the next two weeks setting up the phones. I guess I can’t attend the whole Christmas party with you…”  
>It breaks your heart to hear her voice sound so low and upset, rather than the chipper call-girl you’re used to. Her sadness reverberates through the receiver, and you swear you hear a bit of a choked cry.  
>”It’s a shame too…aw shucks, I was really looking forward to show ya off, Anon! Well, I guess next time right….?”  
>It was at that moment, you started to formulate a plan.  
>While Molly might not be able to attend that big fancy-ass party, she still was deserving a nice holiday, instead of spending Christmas trying to run relay wire and set up transceivers.  
>You call her up each day, and talk to her more, letting her hear about your day, what’s going on. Just hearing your voice, to know that you call her each day, is enough to make her feel a bit better.  
>But, you also do this to keep a low tab, to keep the surprise you’re planning for her a real secret. After all, she’d be more suspicious if you didn’t call her, right?  
>You’ve spent hours digging through any sort of phone-related things you’d think she’d like- there is quite the market for that surprisingly.  
>Retro can-on-strings? A record of music composed from electronic ringtones and dialtones? Even a bracelet made from an old dial ring that spelled out “DIAL ME UP BUTTERCUP?” in the number slots?  
>Nah.  
>It took a little bit of searching and scraping a couple bucks together, but you managed to find something that would be really cool, something she’d love.  
>The two things you’ve ordered are set to arrive in Canopolis Post Office on Christmas Eve, just right near the military offices where Molly works.  
>On the day you go to pick it up, you bundle up in your best clothes, and bury those best clothes beneath a layer of heavy winter wear, and then call Molly up.  
>As you walk into the lightly falling snow that rings in the spirit of the season, you also hear the sound of your cute caller’s voice ring into your ear.  
>”Molly? Yeah, it’s Anon, who else would it be? Listen, I know you’re feeling a bit down about the whole missing the party thing, but who know…if ya want to tell me, I’d love to hear about what we would have done.”  
>”Oh, sure, Anon…” you could hear her voice grow a bit sad, yet a bit happy at the idea. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you what I was gonna do.”  
>And as you walk down the street, huddled up in your heavy clothes, you let your focus fade away from the snow and the cold and the crowd to just focus on Molly’s voice.  
>She tells you all about how she would have shown you off to everyone, from Princess Parasoul, to Adam, to Panzerfaust and Roxie, to even Egret Platoon #42.  
>Her voice, so used to describing relay messages down to the last detail, beautifully describes how lavish the party would have been.  
>How she would have sat with you in some cozy little booth at the far end of the hall, near this huge bar, sipping Christmas-themed cocktails, with your arm around her.  
>How she would have loved to see you in your nice clothes as you enjoyed a delicious gourmet dinner the chefs prepared, playing footsie with you as you two would share a toast of Renior Red #1  
>As you board the train to Canopolis, the sound of engine wheels on the frost-kissed track and screeching whistles through the half-frozen air fade away as Molly dreamily describes to you how she would have loved to go dancing under the colossal Christmas tree, swinging to the beat of the klezmerwaltz the band is playing, her army dress swaying as you spin her around.  
>Even as you get off the train and head to the post office, you tease her with a bit of your own ideas.  
>Saying how that you would have probably picked her up at her post, swept her off her feet, and carried her all the way to the hall so she could have all her energy to dance with you  
>Through the phone, you could actually visualize her face going all red, and her fixing her glasses as she stumbles over words, blaming the stuttering for a jump in the lines.  
>You walk into the post office, quickly grab the two packages that wait for you, and head off in the direction of the military offices.  
>Along the way, you continue to serenade her with like a phone-call Romeo, letting your voice ease through the flurries of snow and across the miles and miles of phone lines to tickle her ear, as you describe how you could just picture her cute brown curls all done up in tinsel, and how she’d look so beautiful in that army dress.   
>In fact, you even drop a little line about how the Egrets probably love the fact she’ll be on call, since that means they could hear her lovely voice all the more often.  
>”After all” you say with a smirk, imagining her face as she sees you walk into her office. “Aren’t you Miss Molly, the dolly you like to call-y~?”  
>Swish  
>”Uh…well…oh, Anon, come on~…you’re making me blush~!”  
>Then, finally, the Civilian Branch of the Black Egret base comes into view, its Christmas lights glittering over the sharp Brutalist structure that sticks out from the Art Deco spires  
>You hurry inside and head down the hall, doing your best to remember where Molly’s office was without making a sound.  
>”You know, Mol, I bet you’re feeling real lonely all cooped up in that office all day. I bet you’d love for someone to come in and keep you company~”  
>”Well, yeah, of course, but everyone else is at the party or out on patrol. Why do you ask?”  
>”Oh, no reason! Say, can you do me a favor and turn around?”  
>”Turn around? Why…?”  
>The lines goes dead.  
>Because as soon as she does, she sees you, snow-covered and all, carrying her two packages.  
>”Surprise, ya little chatterbug~. Thought I’d swing by and drop something off”  
>Molly, with her face in that cute “bawwh” she does when she’s excited, eagerly runs off and squeezes the life out of you in a hug, going off like a busted telegraph with “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”  
>You unzip your heavy winter wear to show her you wore your fancy clothes just to see her and hand her the two gifts, which after kissing your cheek like crazy, she opens giddily  
>The first gift is a beautiful black and white swing dress, with a silver ribbon around the waist, something to replace her drab olive green dress.  
>The second gift is a new headset, with a special wireless radio built in that allows her to listen to music and make calls all at once- something to pass the time those long nights of switchboard work.  
>Molly doesn’t say much- for the first time, she has nothing to say.  
>Instead, she instantly throws her arms around you, and kisses you as deep as she could  
>Like a relay point getting a message, your heart skips a beat, and you lean into it, letting your arms wrap around her as the taste of coffee wafers from her lips melt over you.  
>”Anon, oh~…you’re the best~!” Molly whispers, nuzzling herself into you. She takes off her glasses to let her face better snuggle itself into you, enjoying the warmth of your arms and the feel of your fancy evening wear take her away.  
>”Well, hey, I wanted to make Christmas special for my messenger girl~.” You chuckle, letting a hand run through her curls and cup her cheek- you’re getting better with the nicknames. “I was gonna call you up, but…I thought in-person would be more personal, right?”  
>Molly giggles and hugs you close again, taking some of the old phone wire and wrapping it around you like a rope to pull you close to her for another deep sweet kiss.  
>And, as Christmas Eve rolls into Christmas Day, the two of you snuggle up in her office, among the mess of telegraphs, wires, dials, and morse code books, sipping cocoa from the break room coffee maker, and just letting the sound of each other’s breaths lull you into a comfy sleep, the words of “I love you” slipping sweetly from each other’s lips as you melt close to each other.  
>And that alone, is the best message you could ever hear.


	15. Time of the Season Part 4

“Bro, bro, come on. Get up. We got work to do!”  
“Game time, bro! Gotta get hustling!”  
It had been like this for, well, what seemed like hours. The Spirit of Remembrance standing over Razmi as she laid in bed, boisterously raving for her to get up while she shoved her head into the pillow and tried to ignore him.  
Maybe it was the way he looked like Xiboch, complete with ripped chiseled bod, tattoos, and an added amount of fur clothing that made him look like some ancient warrior.   
Maybe it was the way he kicked in the door, hyping and howling while chugging a sports drink straight from a heavy clay jug, before throwing said jug against the wall and sprinting over to Razmi, tossing the huge iron ball against the wall and catching it in a raw display of frat boy power.  
Or maybe, just maybe, Razmi could have gotten past all that- if he hadn’t immediately referred to her as “Bro” and demanded they “flex them muscles and get moving” while shaking the bed violently like an escaped mental patient.  
“Razmi, bro, listen- we’re on the clock, and we can’t be wasting time. We gotta get going, and we gotta get going now!”  
With her trademark warmth and sweetness, a dead, cold eye glared at the Spirit from beneath the pillows.   
“No.”  
“No? Bro, why?”  
Oh Kala, he was as thick as the real Xiboch, wasn’t he? And not in the way Nuna described him as either  
“…First of, stop referring to me as “Bro”. I’m not even a guy”  
“Bro, calling you bro is, like, a compliment! You can get so many nicknames from it! Broski, bro-hammer, bro-bo-bro, alright that one needs some work…”  
“And second…uh, why do you look like Xiboch? I get why the other one looked like Thorani, but why you?”  
The Spirit laughed and pounded his chest, in the way a Tlatchlibol player would do after scoring, but to Razmi, it was like watching a monkey pound on his chest but not in the fun way.  
“You really don’t know why I’m dressed like one of the two champions of the GAME in the last century? Bro, you need to stock up on your sports! See, Tlatchlibol actually started off during the Season of Rememberance, when one of the greatest warriors in history, Chief Coxaoch, created the game as a physical endurance test for his soldiers, combining his reverence for the sun and nature into a game that combined man’s strength with nature’s endurance against all. When he died, the GAME just carried on to celebrate his strength, and to carry on the tradition of Coxaoch. Might be a bit different than how it was before, but…”  
That was the smartest thing Xiboch- or any form of Xiboch, ghost or not- had ever said to Razmi.  
“…yeah, yeah, skip the history lesson.”  
“Oh, and Xiboch is the only one who has, you know, any experience being dead, so that was pretty easy, right? If you want, I could probably go get him…”  
“No, no, just…” Razmi sat up in bed, and shook her head at the feather and fur clad man who was currently tossing his heavy iron ball back and forth. “What are you here to show me anyway?”  
“Uh…” The Spirit, who for the sake of ease Razmi decided to call Xiboch (because they were both ghosts), seemed to be a bit forgetful. He rubbed his broad chin in thought, as if trying to why he even showed up. Perhaps the thrilling history of sports was enough to make him forget.  
“Oh yeah! See, I need to teach you the true meaning of why people celebrate Remembrance and why it’s so important to celebrate it!”  
“No, absolutely not.”  
“…What?”  
“I said, I’m not going anywhere with you”  
“Bro, why not? You went with the Spirit of New Life? Is it because I’m not a chick? I mean, yeah, that babe is pretty smokin’, but I’m as hot as…”  
Okay, time to stop this before he started flexing like a character in those weird Tai Krung comics.  
“I mean, Xiboch, from what I know of you and Hunoch, I’d be better off with Ajna and Nuna leading me blindfolded through the woods.”  
“You don’t think I can do it? Bro, I’m the Spirit of Remembrance, the patron god of Tlatchlibol, the GAME! I, heh, think I know what I’m doing”  
“Xiboch, just last week you and Hunoch played shirtless outside in the snow and I had to use my fire to keep Hunoch from dying of frostbite.”  
“I’m not…”  
“And yesterday, you made Fight Milk and Phoebe had to carry you to the bathroom because you couldn’t stop..”  
“I’m not Xiboch, remember? I’m just taking this form because you’ll recognize me.”  
“Still. I’m not really up for going into the past with you.”  
The Spirit looked in confusion, before letting out a laugh. He wasn’t Xiboch, but the way he laughed so boldly sounded like him.   
“Bro, who said anything about going into the past? If we could do that, bro, we wouldn’t be here sitting around talking! We’d be, like, way back in the past! This would be the future how far back we’d be!”  
Razmi looked at the familiar ghost in all of his jock glory, raising an eyebrow in confusion. She took her lantern from its hook and held it up to him, as if to see if he was planning anything, like throwing that ball at her or grabbing her in his meaty tough hands.  
“So, what are we doing? Like, aren’t you supposed to show me something then?”  
“Bro, don’t worry! We’re just gonna see what your friends think of it, see how they’re celebrating!”  
“Oh no, no, no, no.” Razmi fell back into bed, letting herself sprawl out like a dead scarecrow, lifeless and limp. “No.”  
“Broski, why not?” The Spirit threw his arms up, letting the ball he was carrying fall to the floor with a thud. “Is it that bad to see your friends celebrating and having fun?”  
“Yes! Wait, er, no…you just don’t get it!”  
“Well, yeah, I don’t get it! What is your deal with remembering someone you care about?”  
“Why bother bringing up the past so much? If you’re supposed to celebrate New Life or whatever, why turn around and start getting all sad that someone died? It doesn’t make sense!”  
“But you have that tiger-ghost thing in that lantern? You still remember him, don’t you?”  
“Bom is different! As long as I have this lantern, I always have him. So I don’t need to remember him, because he’s always with me. It’s stupid to remember someone who lost because…because…”  
“Because what, bro?”  
“Because it’s…too ridiculous, like I said! People get all sad and sappy, instead of just letting stuff go. I mean, you have to go to funerals and rites to remember them, and it doesn’t do anything! They’re still dead!”  
Xiboch looked at Razmi for a moment, as if thinking of something- although if you asked the shaman, she’d say that be as a rare as Thorani cursing. Then, the Spirit picked up his ball, spun it around on his finger, before smiling almost knowingly at something.   
“Okay, okay, yeah, I see what you mean, Brozmi…”  
“Really? You get what I mean?”  
“Sure. How about this? Since I apparently am as smart as, uh….I dunno what you call it?”  
“A sack of bricks?”  
“Yeah! If all this is some stupid joke, why don’t you prove it to me?”  
Razmi smirked, sitting up again in bed. She had that smirk on her face that was crossed with her usual “let’s set this on fire and see what happens” smirk and her “Winning an argument against Dhar” smirk.  
“Alright then. I’ll be more than happy to prove it to you, you meatheaded jock. Here, how are we going to do this?”  
Xiboch chuckled again, and in a boisterous display of power, flexing his muscles all covered in the fur of some great beast, strode over to the door. Clutching his smooth iron ball in hand, he grabbed the door knob with the other hand, straining as if pulling a great weight, or the back of a teammate injured in game, he threw the door open with a loud bang, letting the wooden door slam off the wall and bounce back off its hinges.   
Oh for Kala’s sake, why did any iteration of Hunoch and Xiboch have to be like this?  
“Come on.” Xiboch faked tossing his ball into the hall, motioning for Razmi to come. “We’re going?”  
“Going?” Razmi asked doubtfully, descending the ladder to stand far back from the half-naked muscle ghost. “Where?”  
“Downstairs, babe.”  
“Downstairs? What are we…hold on, did..did…” Razmi stuttered for a moment, before just looking up at him. “Did you just call me babe?”  
“Uh yeah. You didn’t want to be called bro so I called you babe. I mean, bro is a guy’s name, and babe is for girls, right?”  
Unbelievable. The ball on this ghost had to be gigantic to say that to her.  
“Look, just…just…I don’t care what you call me, just not that...”  
“Alright then, Brozami. Let’s get going then.” Xiboch smiled widely, pointing out into the darkened hallway. “Everyone’s waiting! Can’t you hear them?”  
Razmi looked outside, seeing nothing but the pitch black hallway before her. At first, she could only hear the cackle of her lantern and the sound of Xiboch tossing the ball to himself back and forth.  
And then, then she heard voices. Silent at first, but she could make out distinct voices slower and slower.  
The tomboyish laugh of Ajna. Thorani’s motherly voice. Dhar’s…er, voice. Leliani and Nuna talking. Latigo’s aged voice coughing and yelling at Baozhai, whose bawdy pirate laugh echoed in response.  
“Come on, Brozami. We got a crowd waiting. And like Coach always said, go head first!”  
“Hey, wait a minute, what are you…”  
Razmi barely finished her sentence, as with the grip of a man whose sole purpose in life was to huck heavy balls at other guys, Xiboch lead her into the darkness to the waiting crowd downstairs.


	16. Royal Treatment

>You work for the Renoirs, the royal family of the Canopy Kingdom  
>Your job is officially “Royal Caretaker”, at least that what it says on paper.  
>Basically, you’re one of many servants, butlers, and maids that have the honor of caretaking the castle grounds, and ensuring the safety and comfort of all royal family to the utmost extent  
>Stuff like making their beds, bringing their meals from the kitchen, setting up for meetings, and drawing bathes for them, if they so require.  
>It’s not bad work actually- I mean, would you want to be working as a Black Egret wearing those heavy military suits and being prepared to be drafted to snipe bloodthirsty 15-feet tall gigans from a helicopter?  
>Or would you rather be making beds and shooting the breeze with co-workers while setting the table for dinner?  
>I thought so.   
>You’re lucky though- you have the honor of being assigned to care for the royal Queen herself, Nancy Renoir.  
>Unlike her husband, who can’t complain about or else you’ll be sacked faster than you can say “Boo”, Nancy is very sweet, and unlike some perceptions of royalty, is actually pretty helpful most of the time!  
>She stays around to help make her bed with the maids, helps fold laundry, and always has a good word to say. In fact, you and a couple others just can’t start the day of right without Nancy strolling by and wishing you a good morning.  
>And believe me, that little pep of kindness is what you all need for the holiday season coming up.  
>Due to the amount of guests arriving for holiday meetings, dinners, parties, and the journalistic circus that occurs every year, you all have your work cut out for you.  
>Sometimes it’s dealing with nosy reporters trying to follow Princess Parasoul until an Egret bodyguard steps in.   
>Sometimes it’s constantly setting up dinners, cleaning up, and then resetting those same tables all within the space of 4 hours, balanced on top of constant upkeep of other duties.  
>And there’s the whole mess about setting up for the holidays.  
>You still pull pine needles out of your ass after helping to set up a mammoth-sized Christmas tree in the front courtyard, and a few guys got stuck on the roof of the pool villa setting up lights after their ladder fell.  
>Through it all though, everyone powers through- and of course looks to be doing their best whenever a royal member of the family is walking by. You’ve heard Franz furiously chewing out some Egrets for misplacing reports, and that is a man you certainly don’t want to cross.  
>All this work and stress must take a toll on you, since one fine December morning, you wake up feeling groggy, and like someone ran into the room and wailed on you with a piece of rebar before splashing ice water on you.  
>Your arms are weak, your palms are sweaty, and for some disgusting reason, you taste this awful combination of bad spaghetti and raw bile in the back of your throat. Your head pounds, your stomach churns, and despite being buried in a dozen blankets, you feel incredibly cold.  
>Lucky for you, it’s your week off due to the overtime you put in last week.  
>Unlucky for you, it’s your week off.  
>Now, you realize how awkward it is to probably call on your fellow friends and co-workers and have them bring you a bucket to vomit in, breath mints, and other assorted delights while they have their own work to do. So, you decide to suck it up and deal with it yourself.  
>You do, however, put in an order from the kitchen to send some chicken soup, so you can at least eat something.  
>The rest of the time, then, is dealing with trying to get warm, gargling mouthwash, and filling up a wastebasket with used tissues and other disgusting things.  
>Finally, after what seems like hours, there is a knock at your door.  
>Shuffling up like a hermit wearing a dead tiger, you open the door, expecting your friend to be bringing in your soup in a thermos.  
>”Alright, thanks for the soup, Amelia, just…just put it over on my dresser…”  
>”But, Anon, wouldn’t you want your soup now? It could get cold!”  
>Wait. That wasn’t the voice of your friend.  
>In fact, it was a voice you know, and a voice you didn’t think you’d be hearing  
>There, in front of you, is Queen Nancy herself, holding a tray of chicken soup with some fresh hot tea.  
>”Uh….Queen Nancy, your highness! What…what are you doing here?”  
>You say, half-choking your words through your gargling throat  
>Nancy just offers you that warm smile and steps inside, setting the soup and tea on the bedside table.  
>”Well, I heard that you weren’t feeling well, Anon! So, I decided to bring you your soup to come check up on you. Oh, and I also had the chefs make you some of this special Dagonian lily tea, which will help a lot with your throat”  
>You smile and thank her warmly- as best as you can do, since you realize how awkward it would be if you just hurled on the Queen of the Canopy Kingdom.  
>Nancy smiles more, before gently placing a hand on your shoulder, and leading you back to bed.  
>”Why don’t you lay down, dear? It isn’t healthy to be walking around when you’re sick.”  
>Maybe it was the fact she was the Queen, and by extension, the boss of you in every way  
>Maybe it was how warm and gentle her voice was, how soft and guiding her touch was as she gently lead you back to bed.  
>Either way you found yourself all tucked up back in bed, laying in a daze under a mess of haphazard sheets  
>Nancy reaches over and gently covers you up, before inspecting the sheets again.  
>”Hmm, you know, why don’t I go get you some linens from my room? I’ll be sure to even put them in the dryer, so they’ll be nice and warm for you. You’ll heal much faster than in these old things”  
>You sit up in bed, supporting yourself as you reach for the tea. You could have some, as not to be rude in front of her.  
>As the sweet tangy tea washes down your throat, you nod your head quickly, waving your hands to dismiss the idea.  
>”N…no! I mean, uh, your Highness, you don’t have to…! I could get them myself, like, right now…uh…”  
>Nancy giggles and pats you on the head, fixing your pillow before letting you fall back into it.  
>”Oh, it’s no problem, Anon! It’s what I want to do. I do this for every sick servant I have! I understand that you don’t want to be, how do they say, “babied” by me. But, I do this because…”  
>”Because the healthier we are, the faster we get back to work?”  
>You let out an awkward chuckle, before realizing what you said your headcold stupor. You look at her, expecting her to be mad, storm out, or smack you across the cheek, like they do in those dramas.  
>Instead she laughs and stands up, running her hands through her long jet black hair. The smell of her high-class perfume fills the air, removing the scent of sick from the room  
>”Oh, you think that because of Franz, don’t you? Haha! He is a good man at heart, believe me. For me, though, I do it because I consider you my children. If that is appropriate to say.”  
>”Your children? What…ackchew!...do your mean, your Highness?”  
>”Well, I AM the Queen, aren’t I? And by some subject, the Queen is the mother of all the people. Guiding them, watching over them, protecting them. As the Holy Book of the Trinity says, “A Mother who embraces all her but one of her children, will be rejected and cast unto fire as the one she rejects”  
>Yeah, Nancy was very religious. She even had a chapel built into the castle, in times when she was unable to go to the cathedral outside of town.  
>”Well,….okay, sure, you could give me some stuff, if you want. I….uh…”  
>Nancy smiles again and pats you on the head, before switching the radio on for you and then heading off out of your room  
>As the sound of jazzy renditions of Christmas carols and news bulletins swirl through your aching head, you weakly indulge in some more tea and the chicken noodle soup. The taste of the tangy tea and the hearty broth with the noodles and salty chicken boost your spirits a bit  
>Nancy returns later on, carrying a bundle of fresh warm linens, neatly folded. You could see the steam pouring off them from being pulled fresh from the dryer.  
>”Sorry to disturb your lunch, Anon, but I hope you don’t mind me setting these for you. I’ll be careful as I can be!”  
>With the smile of a loving mother, Nancy unfurls one linen, and drapes it over you, the dryer fresh warmth and scent covers you in a comforting embrace, greeted by another warm linen.  
>When both linens cover you, Nancy then tucks the rest of the linens into the mattress, forming a nice warm cocoon to keep you all wrapped up in.  
>She even resets your pillows, fluffing them up for you to relax much better.  
>As she works around you, the sweet aroma of her perfume continues to tempt your nose with hints of rosewater and strawberry.  
>Her long silky black hair as it brushes against your cheek as she fluffs your pillow, strands to kiss your rosy cheek with cooling brushes  
>Her soft, gentle voice humming in tune with the Christmas music playing on the radio. Her voice teases your ears with the occasional whisper of lyrics as she works, her humming as silky as the linens, like wine pouring from those rouge-purple lips.  
>Even the warmth of her body as it rests against you, as she does to open the blinds by your window, to let you observe the sprawling courtyard below, is enough to make the chills in your body melt away.  
>In a moment, you have a thought that if anyone heard, be it her, a co-worker or heaven forbid King Franz, would sentence you to a life as a perverted monster.  
>You wish she would wrap those arms around you, pull you close, and just hold you. Just slow rubbing on your shoulders, hearing her hum to you, the scents, the warmth, even her touch would be enough.   
>What did you think you were thinking about?  
>After a few moments, Nancy finishes getting your room more comfortable. Sunlight peeks through winter clouds, spears of light to clash against spears of ice hanging from gilded glass portals. Warmth wraps around your pale, cold body, fabric to linger like a lover’s touch. And a woman, a mother, a Queen, sits on the edge of the bed, letting her hands run without fear through your hair, before gently rubbing your cheek, in the way a mother would do with her child.  
>”There, now, do you feel better Anon, dear?”  
>You nod, giving a smile that fails to match the warmth that radiates from royalty’s lips.  
>”Y…yeah, I’m feeling a bit better. Thanks a lot, your Highness. You didn’t have to do this…”  
>”Please, call me Nancy, Anon. You may call me your Highness when you’re working again. But for now, you are, how does it go, off the clock, so why bother with formality?”  
>She giggles again, teasing you with a flick of her hair  
>”N…nancy. Okay, heh, just not used to calling you by your name, heh”  
>Nancy stands up, gently brushing herself off before standing over you.  
>”Pardon me, but I have a meeting with a few publishers about a newspaper interview for the holidays. I’m sorry to leave you, Anon.”  
>She actually seems a bit bad to leave you- after all, what mother wants to leave their sickly child?  
>”Oh, it’s fine, your…I mean, uh, Nancy. You did more than enough for me anyway”  
>”Well, I just don’t want to seem rude, of course! How about I’ll be back to check on you, and I’ll bring you some dinner?”  
>”That…that sounds nice, Nancy. I’d love something to eat. And…well, if you don’t mind me saying, I’d love to talk with you a bit more. Like, I always wanted to have a conversation with royalty…”  
>Nancy blushes brightly and smiles widely, leaning down to gently kiss at your forehead. Nothing romantic, of course, but rather a friendly kiss.  
>But still, how soft her lips are, how warm they feel, the aroma of strawberry and dark chocolate from some delicious breakfast, and the coolness of her Meridian Midnight lipstick is more than enough for your heart to skip a beat.  
>And in that silky warm voice you’ve come to find comforting seduces your ear once more  
>”I’d love to, Anon, dearie.”  
>Flashing a smile at you, and a wink, Queen Nancy walks out of the room and down the hall, shutting the door behind you.  
>As the sound of Christmas music played to saxophone and xylophone rolls through the room, and the hints of perfume mingle with the aromas of your tea, and the cool lipstick turns to a dark shadow against your forehead, you snuggle up in bed a bit more  
>Maybe you could stand to be a sick a little while longer.


	17. Time of the Season Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Keyboard problems! I'll continue the rest tomorrow, and a brand new drabble at the same time! Two for one special! Thanks for sticking around!

The downstairs room was more or less how Razmi remembered it. Which, of course, wasn’t to say she expected anything else, but after all the other asinine stuff that was happening tonight, she was expected to see something like demons in the shape of everyone else spitting fire or something 

And, as cool as that would very much be, it strangely felt comforting to see everyone again. 

The whole room, compared to the cold pitch black of the house, was lit up in the warm glow of a hundred dozen or so candles, each carefully placed in every window, corner, and table to ensure every spot in the room was full of light. The air tinted with the delicious aroma of spices and fish from the kitchen gave it a comforting sensation, the aroma mingling with the scent of agarwood and herbal tea from the sticks of incense burning above each doorway. A roaring fire sat in the fireplace, feed by fresh chopped wood and the remains of burnt wrapping paper, mostly caused by Thorani and Phoebe, who were sitting in front of the fireplace, surrounded by a mess of colorful, crinkled paper and their waiting to be wrapped gifts 

Lounging on the chaise, was Dhar, his nose buried in a book on military traditions used by the Iron Kingdom in times of peace, doing his best to distract himself from the sounds of the training room just next door. Hunoch and Xiboch- the real ghost of Xiboch- were in there training, the sounds of them grunting and straining as they pushed their body to the limit, the clattering of heavy weights, and the occasional blaring of motivational music echoed throughout the house. 

“Ugh, can’t those two keep in down, for just once?” Dhar asked, sitting up from his book, glancing over towards the training hall. “It sounds like a pack of cows wrestling each other in there! Can't they be quiet for at least a few minutes, instead of going off like a pair of nitwited jocks?” 

“Oh, Dhar…” replied Thorani, her voice always genuinely sympathetic and kind- with her being a natural empath, she could truly understand Dhar’s annoyance. “I understand those can be a bit…er, overzealous, but go easy on them! They’re just practicing!” 

“Yeah, they aren’t doing anything!” Phoebe pointed out, looking over the customized shield she had made for her daughter she was trying to wrap. For being a giant warrior woman, and a skilled fighter, gift wrapping was the enemy to all of mankind, even her. “I mean, sure, it gets a bit annoying to hear them call each other Bro in the middle of the night, but they’re just practicing. Tungar and I practice, Ajna practices, Zebei and Latigo train with those arrows and guns, and…” 

“Well, at least you all keep it down the best you can. Latigo may be old and a bit of a curmudgeon, but he at least raid the fridge for those containers of muscle growth…” Dhar sighed and shook his head, as if realizing what he was saying. “No, no, you’re right. They have that big game coming up in two days, and they need all the practice they can get…” 

Razmi was shocked. Normally, Dhar would have went on a hysterical rant about the “proper respect of discipline in practice” and how Hunoch and Xiboch leave their protein supplements laying around the training floor when they’re done training. And then, Hunoch and Xiboch would say how Dhar didn’t get the “power of the game” and how “Potato Dhar is a cooler bro than he was.” before quickly forgetting the whole argument after dinner and a 3 hour power nap. 

But, to hear Dhar actually swallow his opinion was more than enough to make Razmi believe in the spirit of the season. 

“Huh. Normally earth nerd would be going off by now. Sure no one would listen but still. I’ve never seen him do that before.” 

“Keep watchin’ bab…I mean, Brorazmi.” The Spirit shot her a bold grin and went to slap her back in brotherly pride, only to consider against out of seeing the cold glare she gave him as he would be about to do it. 

“Is everything alright, Dhar?” Thorani asked, in the midst of trying to figure out a way to wrap up her present for Yan- a new pair of dancing shoes with a golden trim and silk feathers above the ankle- without making it seem too obvious. “You seem rather down these past few days. Is everything alright?” 

“Yes, everything is fine, believe me…” Dhar gave Thorani a gentle smile- hell, even he wasn’t immune to Thorani’s charm. “I guess it’s just my first holiday to celebrate, at least, as a civilian.” 

“Civilian?” Phoebe looked up, half-focused on trying to tie a knot around her gift. “Oh, yeah, because you were in Rav’s Army, right? You must have never celebrated anything really.” 

“Well, only the glory of removing heretics to create a pure and holy world....” Normally Dhar would have taken pride in saying those words, but now he just sounded so disgusted saying them. “Aside from that, no. I mean, I know all the traditions and the rites and the celebrations, but I have no idea how to do anything. And all the things I’ve done....” 

At that, Thorani got up from wrapping and sat next to Dhar on the couch, gently draping her arm over his shoulder. She offered him a warm smile, a smile that would be matched only by, say, a certain spirit of life Razmi had spent an hour or so hanging out with. 

“Dhar, dear, I understand you feel guilty. But you only did those things out of misguidance, rather than any maliciousness! You could never have imagined what you were doing was wrong until you learned the truth!” 

“I know, Thorani, but still...it doesn’t excuse the things I’ve done. Ajna may never forgive me, and that is something I must come to accept if that is the case, yet I still want to show some penance, I guess?” 

There was silence for a moment, save only for the sound of the cackling fire. Thorani and Phoebe looked at each other, before looking at Dhar once again. Thorani gently held him closer, letting Dhar rest comfortably against her side. The man looked up at her, his face awash with stains of guilt and shame. 

“Dhar, you mustn’t hurt yourself over this. True, you’ve made a terrible mistake in the past, but you’ve at least shown yourself willing to accept it! That’s merely the first and greatest step one can take!” 

“But, how can one celebrate and be joyful when what you’ve done still haunts you? You can’t change the past!” 

“That part’s true...” Phoebe shrugged her shoulders, flicking a wave of purple hair from her face. “You can’t change the past. But you can at least change the future. The past might be wrong, but the future may be made right!” 

Thoran’s tone softened, a few fingers running through Dhar’s silvery hair to ease his worries. 

“If you’re familiar with all the traditions of the season, Dhar, have you ever heard of the traditional rite of Purification?” 

Dhar nodded, rubbing his chin as he recalled what he had read up on in Navvar’s collections of books. Although there wasn’t much of those kinds of books, Dhar still could remember a tidy bit of what he learned. 

“Yes....the devas used to do those on Mt. Sumeru, before they passed the tradition onto priests and priestess a century ago. Why?” 

“And do you know what exactly they do?” 

“They take you to a temple and walk you through a flooded channel of hot water through the temple. While walking you are to pray and offer yourselves to the gods and goddesses at every point along the path, and at the end of the rite, you are washed clean via a spiritual bath of some sort? Is that what it is?” 

Thorani smiled and nodded, rolling her fingers through Dhar’s hair. Phobe placed a comforting hand on Dhar’s shoulder. While they weren’t trying to baby him or show him empty pity, they understood how hard he was trying to redeem himself, and to right the wrongs he had done in the past. Dhar wasn’t a bad guy, so much as he was misguided. A hero who had no idea he was the villain. 

“Ugh, are we just going to watch Dhar pity himself?” Razmi asked, slumping herself down on the steps where they sat. She felt comfortable saying that out loud- although it wasn’t like she wouldn’t say it out loud anyway even if they could hear her. “I thought you were going to, you know, “teach me about the magic of the season” ooh~...not watch Dhar cry.” 

“Just watch. Trust me.” “Xiboch” waved a ghostly blue hand, adjusting the heavy fur he wore around his shoulders. “As Coach always said, you gotta learn voraciously. No, wait, or was it vigorously? Eh, tomato, potato, you get the idea.” 

Razmi, although both baffled by what this ghostly copy of a ghost was trying to say and the concept of watching Dhar get comforted by Thorani and Phoebe made her feel kind of awkward and not in the good way, shook her head and watched on. 

It was better than hearing Jock boy over here stumble over words. 

“If you would want to, Dhar, I can take you for the ritual tomorrow.” Thorani’s words were as comforting and as refreshing as the water that dripped from her hair, and as smooth as the steam the water became as the heat of the fire filled the room. “As memory serves, many people would come to Mt. Sumeru for it.” 

“Well, what would a dunk in a pool of perfume do anyway?” Dhar shrugged. For all of his military might and bravado-supposedly- he seemed at this moment weak and confused, his words stumbling and falling over themselves as he tried to voice his disdain and guilt. “Would it change the past?” 

“It would be a first step, dear. As the old teachers used to tell me when I was younger, “the past only becomes you, so long as you carry the past with you”. 

“Look, Dhar...” Phoebe gave Dhar’s shoulder a supportive squeeze, her motherly side showing through her amazon-like strength. “I know you feel that guilt, and that is a guilt that you can’t just let go of. But, you should let it ruin you.” 

“...Then what can I do?” 

“You learn. You embrace it.” 

“E...embrace it?” 

“Yes....” Thorani’s voice took over, understanding and soothing. “It may sound hard, but what you must do just that. You must embrace the sin that overtakes you. Make it a part of you, and accept it. By rejecting it, you create a new you, a you that will forever carry the beast of your sin. Accepting what you’ve done, and allowing it to be yours, can you change yourself.” 

Dhar looked up at Thorani and Phoebe, his eyes closed for a minute or two, before he shook his head slowly and clasped his hands together. Then, he looked up at them again, nodding in somber agreement. 

“You’re...you’re right. There’s nothing I can do to change what I’ve done, so I must carry the burden. As any soldier would do...” 

The former military leader ran his own hand through his hair, looking at his hands for a moment, as if to find an answer in the creased palms and nimble fingers. He gave a stoic sigh and spoke softly, but of determination. 

“This...this rite...would you accompany me, Thorani? Even if this doesn’t do anything, I’d at least have someone I can know supports me there.” 

Thorani gave a warm smile, and even to someone like Dhar, she gave him a warm and compassionate hug. Phoebe chuckled, giving a soft small smile to lighten the mood. 

“Of course, Dhar. I’d be more than happy to.” Thorani pulled back, before pointing to the mess of presents. “Would you want to help us wrap up the gifts? Phoebe and I could use the help!” 

“Yeah, kid. Why don’t you give us a hand? If you’re as good as wrapping presents as showing off those sword skills, we’d get through this faster!” Phoebe chuckled, giving Dhar a flick in the shoulder. 

“Yeah...” Dhar chuckled and gave a small, but hopeful smile. “That would be nice. It would get my mind off this...and whatever’s going on in the training room with those two” 

As Dhar went to help the two mothers get the gifts ready, Razmi looked back at the Spirit, shrugging her shoulders again, swaying the lantern in her hand in a bored manner 

“Uh...okay, that was...sweet...” To say that word made Razmi gag a bit. “But...what does that do with anything?” 

“Seriously? You didn’t get that?” Xiboch threw his arms into the air, tossing his heavy ball into the air and watching as it put a good dent in the steps below them. “Ugh....come on, bro! That was a prime example of...” 

“Look, if I wanted to watch Dhar cry and get sad, I could watch him and Baozhai have a drinking contest. Now, if we can just...” 

“HOLD ON! I GOT IT!” Clapping his big meaty hands together like big meaty cymbals, Xiboch laughed in delight. “I almost forgot! Oh man, this would be a great example!” 

“Oh, no, please don’t let it be something else with Dhar. If it’s potato Dhar, maybe, but...” 

“No, no more Dhar! Besides, he doesn’t respect the training it takes to get good in the GAME, but still, you should learn something from that. Trust me, you’ll get this one.” 

Before Razmi could say anything else, Xiboch grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close to his ghostly, bare chest. 

Even if he was a copy of Xiboch, just something to keep her from being terrified and comforted, Razmi definitely wasn’t comforted by the strangely real scent of sweat, cheap sports cologne, and for some terrible reason, raw meat and eggs that wafted from the fur and leather-clad spirit’s chiseled, bare chest. 

But wait until she told Nuna, she thought. The look on her face would be PRICELESS 

There was a whoosh of air, and only what could be described as the feeling of being hurled through space at a rapid speed before suddenly coming to a stop. Although, honestly, that could have been just the sheer force of the Spirit choke-slamming her into a bear hug. 

Pulling away from Xiboch’s rugged, manly chest so thick you could bounce coins off the pecs, Razmi, unlike a certain plant-loving girl, looked up at him, gasping and wheezing-and oh so furious with rage. 

“Xiboch....ghost, whatever you are....never, and I mean NEVER do that again. Or so help me I will bring you to life, set you on fire, and repeat until you are...” 

The shaman’s vicious threats were caught off the glow of a dozen or so candles, shimmering around her in a bright, twinkling light. There was a smell of cigarette smoke, a smell of baking bread, and a familiar aroma of flowers and dirt, something Razmi had come to identify from one place in the world. 

And then, a familiar voice seemed to call out, and a familiar figure appeared, sitting, casted in long twisting shadows against the clay walls. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

Ajna?


	18. Jingfei and Anon's Date

>The air fresh with the aroma of cooking fish over hot coals, and roasting meat being tossed with spices and salt, its juices dripping to touch the scalding heat of its baking stone, creating an exotic steam that danced among the aromas of fresh rice wines and perfumes that filled the restaurant air.  
>The sound of people laughing, singing, and talking echoed in an endless chorus, a tuneless rhyme that mingled with the melodies of clinging glasses, sharpening knives, and tapping feet. The sounds of a woman’s voice, so powerful and emotional in her tone that even from far away you could hear her singing a song so ancient even the words themselves fell to dust as they left her lips, sang above the harmony of string and wind instruments that poured from the windows and into the night sky of the port outside.  
>Nestled among the crowded tables, the miasma of people in fancy dress, suit, and robes both young and old gossiping and chatting among their rice wines and vodka, sat you, in the corner, beneath a window, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation.  
>It was already 9 now. Would she show up at all? Where was she? Did she even know you were here?  
>Such questions seemed trivial in the space of things, this wasn’t the question of why or how, but for who, and if that who would even show up. But to you, this was important, as important as the day itself was.  
>Tonight was the Festival of The Haiyang-Shang Jin- the Festival of The Ocean Bounty, to those not in the know. Basically, it was an annual event in which, every year on the summer solstice, the Port celebrated the great event in which, over 700 years ago, great warriors from the fledgling port city sailed out and killed three great sea monsters that had once blocked the ocean ports from being accessed, and held a great feast with the flesh of the monsters to celebrate. In turn, the world finally noticed the Port and sailed around the seas to trade and interact- thus, leading to the sprawling metropolis you now sit in.  
>There were feasts, parties, dancing, stories, plays, and even something special that tonight you had to make absolutely sure you could not miss.  
>And unless she didn’t show up, you’d miss it either way.  
>You looked over yourself a hundred times now- pressed good suit, the one made with the good silk from that vendor who sold to those Iron Kingdom elites when they came back, fresh desert rose strung up on your chest. It wasn’t very much, compared to what some of the guests here were wearing but, it was all you could get, and it was the best you had to afford.  
>After all, for a date like tonight you had no plans on looking like some slob who just came in off the docks.  
>The plan for tonight was as such- dinner here, then a quick walk through the city, then up to that lookout tower out by where the mountain peaks met up by the city wall for the surprise.  
>Surely you had everything planned out. Nothing, by the grace of mighty Kala, could go wrong and you would do everything you could to make sure it went right…  
>Then, you saw her. In her chair, floating through the masses of people with such grace and skill that it would seem was actually flying on her own.  
>As soon as she saw you, Jingfei’s face lit up with surprise and excitement.  
>”Oh, Anon! There you are!” She smiled warmly, her freckled cheeks stained a tad with the rosy blush of awkwardness. “Sorry I was late. Angwu had me sorting books all evening, and AGAIN when she didn’t like that they weren’t in alphabetical order!”  
>You smile and wave a hand, brushing away the metaphorical wall between you two, and as if to wipe away your own fears as well.  
>”Ah, don’t worry about it, Jingfei! I understand. I’m just glad you here!”  
>Jingfei looked absolutely beautiful tonight. And that is something that can’t be understated  
>Her usual look, the look of her normal black student-esque attire, has shifted immensely away from the young apprentice to that of an aspiring young woman. She wears a flowing river of aqua silk, her summer dress that wraps around her petite form to curl around her neck and shoulders to expose the rest of her arms, where she has slipped on gossamer white dress gloves- freed from the gunpowder residue her other gloves carry. A silver ribbon curls lovingly around her waist, the tied bow at the right of her hip trailing down to draw attention to her legs, which are exposed through the slits carefully cut through the side of her dress. Her normal stockings are replaced by cleaner silk stockings, at which she wears red suede heels, which click gently against the brass and gold of her chair with the vibration of it’s rocket. Her face has been cleaned and washed, her freckles seem to be deeper tonight, speckled on her cute rose-kissed cheeks to sandwich her lips, which now adore themselves with a soft emerald green lipstick, between then. Her sparkling dark green eyes seem to shine as bright as their color’s name beneath the thin orange flickers of light from the lantern above your head. Her hair- a surprising dark green to complete the ensemble- has faded the mortar hat and two side buns for a more classical look- done up in a top-knot bun through which two small silver chopsticks cross each other between it. The rest of her hair is done in a graceful sweep, some green blades of hair drift over her face like a bridal veil, while the rest of her hair folds back in a wave behind her ears, themselves decorated with a small earing each that form a small pattern of three golden chimes. The smell of gunpowder and chemicals, the scent of age old books and musty spaces, fade away, replaced by Jingfei’s choice of cherry blossoms and lavender petal perfume.  
>In short, as stated, she looks absolutely beautiful.  
>As if to sense that in that moment you were looking at her, she asks the question, smoothing her dress out as she maneuvers herself closer to you.  
>”So, Anon, how do I look? I spent all week trying to get everything right!”  
>Maybe it was the way her voice, so eager and adorable with that playful sense of excitement and energy, or how she looked when she admired herself all over, but you could only answer in the simplest of responses.  
>”You look great. Jingfei!”  
>Just saying those words to her, even if they are so very simple, seems to melt away any care on Jingfei’s face, and she lets out an adorable giggle of relief. You take it she’s never been on much dates- or even one at all, until you asked her.  
>But, by all accounts, you are determined to make this date go right.  
>You watch as she slides into the opposite side of the table, maneuvering her chair with rather skillful ease until it’s against the wall, letting the rocket of the chair turn off with a soft hiss and a whine before the chair itself fell against the floor.  
>You’re out of the way of the majority of the crowd, not enough to fully shut out the cheers and melodies of the restaurant’s floor, but enough to give you and Jingfei the space you need. From here, you could observe the streets floors below, illuminated by an endless ocean of lights-lanterns, candles, torches- flickering a variety of colors infused by precious metals , stretching out in a flickering, bobbing canvas before fading off past the wharves and piers until it meet the vast darkness of the ocean. If you looked to the right, you could see the main floor below, where people gathered around a massive stone fountain, where women in silk robes danced on the tops along the cascading waters, and huge stone jugs of wine were passed around across the maze of bars and tables. The music, that woman’s voice, continued to rise above the crowd, echoing against the clay bricks of the building and rolling back down like a blast furnace from the Iron Kingdom, illuminated by the crystal dome high above that spilled in the silvery moonlight.  
>You didn’t take much notice of this- as soon as Jingfei sat down, she began to talk about Angwu and keeping her late, joking that Angwu kept such tabs on her, she’d probably be sitting right behind them to eavesdrop. You smile and laugh- not in that polite awkward way that most dates go with trying to feign interest, but you’re honestly just happy to have Jingfei here with you tonight, and whatever she wants to say is more than fine with her.  
>The waitress in her long colorful robe brings the wine- a special Port Classic, made with special cacti fruits that grow in the great desert and distilled in water that pours down from the cliffs- and pours you two your glasses. As you talk, you enjoy some of the wine and some of the complimentary food they offered- calamari, dumplings with spiced pork, and cheeses served alongside a special flat bread.  
>When the time to take your orders come, you let Jingfei go first. She orders a roasted seerfish served in a lemon pan sauce over spiced rice- along with some more of that really good calamari. You order a roasted duck with orange-plum glaze over the noodles.  
>Jingfei’s a bit nervous about ordering something expensive, but you, wanting to make her feel comfortable as any date would, simply smile and wave it off.  
>”Aw, don’t worry about it, Jingfei! Didn’t you say yesterday you want to be taken somewhere nice because you’re so cute? Well, I just went ahead and did that”  
>That gets her face even redder. She reaches to cover her face with her usual mortar hat, but realizes this and buries her face into her hands, where her gossamer white gloves melt against her rose-tinted cheeks.  
>And the little squeal she makes as you compliment her, well, that makes your face as red as could be too  
>As you two resume conversation, which at the moment was you asking her just what she needs so many explosives in a library for, you find yourself taking sly glances at the window, out towards the coast. There’s nothing out there, save for the distant shadows of masses on ships floating in the pencil-thin horizon, but you know something will, and is, going to happen.  
>As romantically charming as the dinner is, you have bigger plans in store for tonight.  
>As Jingfei finishes up explaining the purpose of using firecrackers as an alarm system, she wipes her mouth in a rather dainty fashion and asks you a question that you had been wracking over all night  
>”You know, Anon, you’re kinda quiet. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”  
>Now, it wasn’t a very hard question. It’s just, well, to hear Jingfei talk about everything she does- how she memorized half of The Naavik- that huge epic about the sailor-in one night to copy it down onto a second back-up copy, or how last Friday, she experimented with trying to make tacos that almost sent Angwu to the hospital for food poisoning, you feel almost that nothing you have to say would compare.  
>You say you do odd jobs around town, being a young student couldn’t get much high work- stuff like working as a courier for the shipping company doing small package runs, worked in a potion shop on the market street, helped sell instruments in some little music shop in the “artsy” section of town, helped to appraisals on antiques that divers dredged up from the bay and how to tell if they were “special”, and even did a small gig in a band that played for the local marina.  
>Like you said, it wasn’t much work, but it got the bills paid. Nothing like the work Jingfei does.  
>But, to your surprise, Jingfei reacts with glee, her emerald eyes sparkling as she leans across the table.  
>”Wow, Anon! You’re so lucky! All I do is copy books and transcribe lectures! I sometimes have to say in the Tower for, like, a whole week on end! At least you get to see the world”  
“R…really? You think that’s interesting?”  
>”Well, yeah! Why do you think I like to blow stuff up! I mean, yeah, Angwu’s really nice- when you get to know her at least- and it’s cool learning all this new stuff, but after a while, you want to have something dynamic happen, don’t you?”  
>Huh. You never thought of it like that way before. You do have some experience in what you did- of course, learning how to tell if a piece of waterlogged jade was the key to some sunken treasure or just some piece of glass from a sunken royal ship wasn’t in great demand, but still it was good to know!  
>And by picturing it from Jingfei’s perspective, getting to walk around the city, get the chance to see the world, would sound a whole lot better than just reading about it, right?  
>Smiling sheepishly, feeling that emotion that most young lovers feel when their crush gives them a compliment, you thank Jingfei and say that her work is interesting as well, especially given how smart she is.  
>As you two talk and chat away the slow-burning night hours, among the chorus of people and festival goers, your food finally arrives.  
>Your duck is tender and moist, melting into your mouth as soon as you take the first bite. The gamey smoked flavor of it, enhanced with the dry rub of zest and black pepper, mixes rather well with the sweet tang of the orange-plum glaze and the herb butter of the noodles. Jingfei’s fish smells delicious- and according to how eagerly she digs in, she’s enjoying it too. The smell of roasted fish, salty and tender, tempts you with the aroma of white wine and peeled lemon along with the five spices that adorn the rice.  
>By now, both of you feel much more comfortable, and those awkward pangs of, well, awkwardness start to fade away. You and her eat and drink comfortably, and soon it’s like chatting with an old friend.  
>It is at this moment you start seeing more of how adorable Jingfei is. How her emerald eyes occasionally catches glances at yours before turning back as if to pretend she wasn’t as she swirled her wine in her glass. How her freckles seemed to bob up and down her cheeks with every time she laughed. How her aqua dress seemed to fit her so naturally, as if she had done this before a hundred times over. How her voice, normally so playful and teasing, seemed to relax more with you, taking on a tone that seemed to match the singer’s voice below you- warm, gentle, inviting, as if to encourage you to keep talking to her. Even the way how her hands fidgeted, so used to toying with fireworks or organizing books or keeping a pen in hand, or how her dress shoes would occasionally brush up against yours in almost too relaxed sway was enough to make your heart jump.  
>After both of your plates were left with nothing but the occasional noodle and small pile of rice dotted with lemon peel, the waitress arrives to take them away. You, perhaps in a fashion too relaxed to notice your vigilant duty to watch the docks below, turn to Jingfei and ask her what she wants for dessert.  
>Of course she gets a bit defensive and politely refuses- “Oh, but Anon, you’ve already bought so much!”- but when she hears the desserts on tap, ranging from sweet buns with a sweet bean paste to the more luxurious winter fruit parfait with custard, almond cake and grass jelly, she’s eager to change her mind.  
>Like a kid in a sweet shop, she eagerly lists off all the confections she could want- and even you find yourself licking your lips as she describes each sweet, savory, and creamy treat they could offer, until finally, both of you agree to split a flan- a cake formed of caramel and custard- topped with dark cacao liqueur.  
>As you then wait for your dessert to come, you and Jingfei find yourself sitting closer- not noticeable at first, but if one would listen very closely, you could see Jingfei’s chair scoot closer and closer to you with little rocket bounces, and you would find yourself easing closer to her, until as if no time had passed, you were both shoulder to shoulder enrapt in your conversation. The smell of her perfume mixes with the scent of your cologne- cherry blossoms mixing with the aroma of earthy tones of your cologne. Her smile seems brighter every time she sits a bit closer, and your hand seems to drift closer to hers until the fingertips are barely inches away from the other.  
>When the flan comes, you two happily dig in, although you have to cut the flan in half- lest the notorious sweet tooth of Jingfei swallow the whole thing before you could taste it. The taste of caramel, warmed to a golden crust, melts with creamy taste of custard and followed the rich aftertones of the dark cacao liqueur, the bitterness dancing with the sweetness. Some of the custard gets on your chin, and Jingfei giggles and wipes it off, saying that only she looks cute when she gets food on her face.  
>As the night grows on, you could feel a cool breeze sweep in from the arch of the window, the summer heat replaced by a cooler air that rolls in off the licks of the waves coming in from the sea, and Jingfei shivers a bit. You slip your coat jacket over her shoulders, and almost instantly she sighs with relief, pulling the warm fabric over herself. She looks up to you, her eyes twinkling with bashful sweetness, before she snuggles herself comfortably into your side.  
>And, as if this was a natural reaction unplanned, you let your own arm drape around her shoulders. Jingfei smirks up at you.  
>”Slow down, love. Shouldn’t you wait until after we leave?”  
>But, for all that teasing, she snuggles herself more into you, and you could see that smile growing wider on her freckled cheeks.  
>A man, dressed in fancy robes and a turban, walks by with a few friends, discussing the speed of his ships in his shipping company to potential investors. As he walks by, he mentions that “a ship could leave port at 12 in the evening, and return by tomorrow morning, not an hour later”  
>Huh. 12 in the evening. That sounded familiar. Wasn’t there something you were supposed to do?  
>Wait a moment. What time was it now?  
>Quickly, you glance out the window, looking back out to the festival celebrations down below. The once empty sea is now littered with figures- boats dotting the silvery water, and the sign of flickering lights that now extended past the docks to dot the cresting waves.  
>It started. You must have lost track of time!  
>”Uh, Jingfei, we have to go. We have to go now!”  
>”Anon, what are you talking about? What’s the matt….hey!”  
>Now, you always considered yourself a gentleman- or at the very least a decent sort of guy, so you would never grab a woman so violently. But, this wasn’t a case of violence, and you didn’t mean to hurt her if you did, and this was a different story. You grabbed her, picked her up bridal-style, and began to carry her out of the dining room, past the bar, and through the doorway towards the stairs leading up to the top of the towering restaurant.  
>Jingfei is confused- as not only is she without her explosive-laden chair, but is also being carried to heaven know where by you. She shakes and squirms in your arms, flailing herself wildly, before suddenly, she finds herself sitting down on the cool stone bench of the tower’s lookout.  
>”Anon, what’s going on? I swear if you’re trying to kidnap me for information, I won’t tell! Angwu can do worse than anything you can do!”  
>”Kidnap….? No, Jingfei, look, I’m sorry I carried you out the way I did, but I was worried we were gonna be late to see it”  
>”See what? The only thing that’s going to happen tonight is the…oh, oh!”  
>Her eyes lit up, as if in that moment, something just fell into place, that she remembers what’s going to happen. And then that eager grin spreads across her face once again, and she sits up on the bench, seeing the city down below.  
>Beneath the multicolored spires and towers that pierce the clear black sky, the streets below are filled with revelry that echoes all the way up to the top of the tower. The colorful lights dance in the streets, the sound of horns blowing into the night wind set the tone for a chorus of cheers and howls beneath a canopy of colored banners. Music rises and falls in different places, picked up in different melodies and different voices that fade away to let other songs take its place. The market street bursts with life- even from up here you could make out the long paper-mache imitation of the great sea beast the warriors fought off, carried by a hundred men, snaking and dancing through the streets underneath a clatter of rattling spears and fake cannon fire, from which rain not hot pieces of shrapnel but little pieces of confetti that are picked up in the night winds and carried up and away into the desert’s reach. The smells of sea salt kiss the air, and mingle with the aroma of a thousand feasts and the scent of cooling clay. The streets pulse and teem with voice and lights, like veins, breathing and trembling through the bodies of clay, brick, and stone that form the monolithic structures of the Port.  
>Far out, past where the great ships are docked for the night’s festivities, and past where the last few tidal markers jut out from the inky blackness of the ocean depths, is a cluster of boats that float and bob steadily against the currents, each gathered together in little circles and illuminated with what appear to be hundreds of lanterns. The boats are designed in an ornate fashion- curved to resemble great arches floating on their tops above the waves, their bows fashioned on one end to be spread out like the tail of a fish, layered in precious jades and glass like that of reflective scales, while the front bow is carved into the upper half of a woman, with long bronze hair that just kissed the surface of the foaming water, and in her outstretched arms she cradles the world, a silver orb of sorts that she gazes lovingly down with her warm, inviting eyes. Figures race back and forth on the ships, each loading something from huge crates onto the deck, with the number of lights and lanterns getting larger and larger.  
>Jingfei turns to you and smiles widely- she knows what this is, and you had a feeling she would like it too. Her eyes turn to the water, and then to you with glee  
>”Ohmygosh! I can’t believe I forgot about this! This is my favorite part of the whole festival! This is when they…”  
>Her words are cut off by a few loud pops, like something snapping free of restraints or several guns firing off in rapid succession. The boats in the distance disappear in a bright flare of light before remerging again, although this time most of the men have gathered around the lanterns on the deck. One by one, the lights slowly begin to lift off the boats into the sky, first to hover diligently above the waves that lapped at the rocky spires near the breakers, before curving against the wind to float above the spires, minarets, and turrets of the Port. They don’t look like normal lanterns, but rather these ones are more larger, and are wrapped in a clear paper orb, each a different color as to let the sky fill the colors of green, gold, crimson, and black. At the end of these lanterns, are long roped tails, tied to several small glowing bags, the ones they used to hold money in, but marked in a series of red parallel lines and stuffed with a sort of powder, not unlike gunpowder. Little cards are attached to the ends of these bags on some of them- like good luck cards, meant to hold the wishes, dreams, and hopes of the Port’s citizens, so that the Gods and Goddess above might take notice and see them.  
>Slowly, as each lantern begins to cover the normally black canvas of night, their colorful paper shells flickering and twirling about, and their tails leaving twinkling sparks to make the stars jealous, you look over to Jingfei. Her eyes stare agape with amazement at the hundreds of lanterns that fill the sky, her emerald pupils sparkling, shimmering as each lantern tail rolls above you higher and higher. She looks so excited, so eager for something, saying that she can’t wait to see the next part- it’s her favorite, she says, and she heard this year’s will be the biggest they’ve done to celebrate the Port’s successful summer season.  
>As the lanterns rise higher and higher, until by now they hover above the domed spires and banners of the street, there is suddenly a loud popping noise, followed by a whizzing sound like a whistle. One lantern blossoms for a moment, in the shape of a water flower, before exploding into a shower of red sparks. This is followed by another, in green sparks, and then another in gold sparks. The little bags of powder, lit by the small flame in the lantern, burst open, the powder inside reacting to tear the darkness of the midnight sky open in a thousand tongues of fire.  
>It’s like they were floating fireworks.  
>Some lanterns burst to send their sparks tracing across each other in a swirl of patterns like an artist’s brush- red and white sparks become a hot pink, blue and yellow sparks form a valley of green against the stars, gold and crimson recreate the rising sun in a blossom of orange sparks. Other lanterns burst not with sparks, but with paper messages and confetti, letting pamphlets of good luck and fortune rain down across the rooftops. Some confetti rains down on you and Jingfei, covering her green hair in a shower of shining confetti strips.  
>Like a child playing in the rain, Jingfei reaches out and gleefully grabs the confetti in her hands, playfully blowing it onto your face, giggling with excitement.  
>”Oh, damn! That was incredible, don’t ya think, Anon?”  
>You can’t help but smile and laugh alongside her- whatever charm Jingfei has about her is contagious, you just can’t help it! As the confetti continues to rain down, and a few more distant fireworks go off above the bay, and the sound of people cheering rises to sweep the port in a cacophony of sound, you just smile happily at her.  
>And she smiles happily back. The two of you aren’t awkward and shy anymore, but now, under the exploding stars of a summer night, you finally feel comfortable. Her gloved fingers slowly entwin with yours, her dress shoes rub against your leg, and her head, with all it’s poofy green emerald hair and its classy bun in the back, nuzzles your shoulder.  
>And your arm wraps around her, to hold her close.  
>After the celebratory fireworks are over, you escort- er, carry- Jingfei back down to the dining hall, and back into her rocket chair. You leave a small sack of your money on the table, and snag a bit more of that really good calamari for you and Jingfei to snack on, before the two of you walk, hand in hand, back down the spiraling steps of the towering restaurant and into the streets below.  
>The streets are still wild and full of revelers, from drunken singers swaying back and forth on makeshift stages atop market stands, to dogs running and barking carrying shoes and pieces of scraps, to even one guy in a leotard flexing with his cats above a cheering crowd. But you and Jingfei don’t mind. With your hand wrapped in her hand, and snacking on the calamari as you go, you shuffle and sway through the streets, laughing and chattering merrily until, after what seems like a blissful hours, you arrive at the doorstep of the Tower of Wisdom  
>”Anon, that was amazing…!” Jingfei swoons, reaching to knock on the heavy clanger of the door to let Angwu know she came back. But, her smile is still locked on yours, her green eyes shimmering warmly, and the freckles on her face seem to still bob with every time she grins.  
>”Ah, it was nothing! I wanted to treat you to something nice, you know? I’m just glad you enjoyed it!”  
>Jingfei grins wider, her hand still holding yours, as if reluctant to let you go.  
>”You know, if you want, I could ask Angwu to let you stay in the Tower until sunrise. I mean, you might have to sleep in that old crawlspace with the bats that we have to hit with a broom, but it’s pretty comfy!”  
>You smile again and shake your head no. Although the idea of spending another few hours with Jingfei sounds like heaven, you don’t want to intrude.  
>”Nah, it’s fine! I live just down the block anyway. You can have a good night’s sleep. Besides, I’m sure Angwu would probably beat me with a broom anyway if she found out I was staying there”  
>Jingfei laughs again, her face turns a slight color of red as she hovers closer to you.  
>”Hey, Anon, before you go…do you want to, heh, see me again tomorrow? You know, like…maybe bring some lunch? I could let you in if you could pick up some books for me, this way you’d have a reason to be there…”  
>You smile wider and without any hesitation, you nod in agreement and give her hand a supportive squeeze.  
>”Of course, Jingfei! I’d love to!”  
>And that, with the second biggest smile you’ve seen on her face, she leans over and kisses you. A gentle, tender kiss, but one that makes you melt.  
>Her lips still covered with the hint of her wine and the caramel of the flan, her perfume still lingering of cherry blossoms and lavender petals, and her aqua dress slips against your suit, as your own arms gingerly drape around her.  
>It’s a soft kiss- but a magical one at that.  
>As she slowly pulls away, you two are left standing, or sitting in her case, as you gaze happily at each other. Faces red, hands curled together, maybe even a bit shaky from the rush of emotions you’re feeling. You’re the first to speak, your voice not nervous, but full of confidence and warmth  
>”Jingfei…I…I…you’re an amazing girl you know that?”  
>”And so are you too, Anon. I mean, an amazing...uh, ah, you know what I mean.”  
>”I’ll see you tomorrow about, say, 12, maybe?”  
>”12 works great, Anon. Here…” She takes a piece of paper from one of the tags on her rockets, and scribbles something down with a pen she keeps in the storage of the chair, along with a few notes “These are the books I need, and the money to get it. Remember, when you come to the door, you’re a courier with the books I ordered, okay?”  
“Of course. Angwu wouldn’t know the difference”  
>And, sharing one last laugh, and one last longing gaze into each other’s eyes, you wish each other good night before Jingfei slips into the Tower, where Angwu could be heard from inside, calling for her and saying how late it was.  
>You turn on your heel and begin to walk down the steps, taking one last glance with a smile, before disappearing into the firework-scented air of the festival, vanishing into the crowd once more.  
>And tomorrow, as you stood at the door, with books in hand and a hidden box of food from the market, you and Jingfei’s smiles are just as wide as they were that night.


	19. Time of the Season Part 6

As her eyes adjusted to the harsh glow of candles against the almost burning darkness, Razmi knew who she was talking to wouldn’t answer. Let alone, of course, even know she was standing right beside her. 

It was Ajna, all right. Same hairstyle, same clothes she was wearing earlier from when she last saw her in her room when she came in, even the same residue of snow twinkling on her from the big snowball she had with Tungar and the two brothers. 

But, she looked different. 

Not in the physical sense, but in that way that Ajna’s normally tomboy, energetic attitude of grabbing life by the horns-or wherever she pleased in particular- and going full ham like a drunk at a streetside bar seemed to have faded away. Replacing it was a feeling of somberness, an emotion she had only shown only in extreme situations, an emotion everyone had seen when things were getting dire. 

A feeling of somberness, a feeling of almost slow acceptance. It wasn’t a bitterness, it wasn’t an anger, but rather it felt like sorrow, a feeling of quiet and steady realization that wasn’t joy, but it wasn’t rage. 

Razmi wasn’t good at socializing, or social manners, or anything that could be described as such. But she was good at reading faces. 

In front of Ajna, who sat in a small wooden chair whose creaking of its ancient wood echoed against the dry hiss and cackle of little flames, was an altar? 

Well, not really an altar. An altar was more commonly decorated in bright beautiful flowers, in velvet ribbons, with sculptures, with stone urns plated in gold and those swinging jars of incense. 

This was just a picture, surrounded by a small hand-woven wreath of jungle flowers whose color despite the winter season remained vibrant and fresh, and an axe- Ajna’s axe- covered in small red prayer beads and interwoven strands of white and red ribbon that hung below like the blade of the axe like fresh blood. 

Aside the axe, a loaf of fresh baked bread, still golden, steaming, a rich buttery scent to offset the aroma of a burning cigarette, one of those cheap ones where the tobacco fell out the waxy brown paper, and should have been better off in a pipe. A small stick of incense was lit, half-submerged into a small pool of sunflower oil that she probably got from Nuna. 

And, in the center, among the small possessions, the scattered and nostalgic totems, laid a single picture only supported by a small gilded frame. 

Without even having to look, Razmi knew who it was. She had no idea how she knew this on gut reflex, but for some reason one way or the other she knew who the man in the photograph was. 

“That’s Ajna’s dad…whathisname, Indr.” 

“Huh?” The Spirit looked down at her, having been slightly relived she seemingly forgot about the whole bear-hug thing. “How’d ya know that?” 

“Well, Ajna talks to me about him sometimes.” Razmi could swear it was the heat of her lantern on her cheeks that made them so warm. “So, I took a best guess.” 

Razmi looked carefully at the picture, though far away she could make out the most obvious features. His scruffy white beard that fell like fresh snow just outside. The deep scars on his face that healed over into jagged cracks, like dried riverbeds on the surface of his deep brown earth face. The way he stood in his robes, hands on his hips, his eyes glaring, imposing, but at the same time wise and understanding. Strength to meet compassion, weight of the world and his daughter on his broad shoulders. 

Razmi sure as hell was good at reading faces. 

She remembered how Ajna described him to her- strict, always focused on training and discipline, but at the same time a good father, always there to protect her, to keep her safe. His voice when he yelled broke the mountains and ripped the canopies, but how it closed the world when she needed it, let him know he was still there and he wouldn’t leave her side. 

Even looking at the picture, you could smell the earthy aroma, the scent of cigarettes and the fresh soil to till. The rugged flesh turned leather on his knuckles. The creaking of bones fading to his roaring strength. A voice that you could picture, a voice you could hear but never heard before. 

“Hey Dad…” Ajna’s voice interrupted whatever snarky thing Razmi or “Xiboch” would say. “I…I guess it’s been a bit since I last talked to you…” 

The way Ajna’s voice spoke seemed to be holding back tears, but she forced it back and instead sat straight in the chair, as if the picture of Indr told her to. 

“It’s, it’s… Jeevan Ka Mausam, you know? At least, uh, I think you know that, heh.’ Ajna scratched her cheek awkwardly, her eyes glaring down at the floor, before casting a slow somber glance back at the picture. “You were always so strict about dates and stuff.” 

A small chuckle escaped Ajna’s lips. 

“Heh, remember during the Week of Remembrance, when all of Ashwat gathered at the bridge to set off those lanterns? And…and I tried to make the biggest one?” 

Another chuckle, a little more genuine. 

“Oh man, the look on your face when I came running with a big paper ball I set on fire? I was screaming about making mine fly….you practically almost cursed in front of those old ladies and one of them hit ya in the rear with her cane!” 

Razmi gave a chuckle too. The idea of a little Ajna running around with a giant paper ball she set on fire did sound pretty funny. And also kind of cool, maybe she could talk Ajna into it, get some stacks of those old books Ginseng had, maybe some kerosene… 

Ajna’s laugh broke down from a warm chuckle to a somber sigh, and she shook her head again. 

“Hehe, I know, I know, I was a handful…or maybe two handfuls, at least that’s what everyone says to me. I told you about everyone, right, Dad? Thorani, Razmi, Zebei, Ginseng and Honey, Baozhai, Qadira, Tungar, you would have probably loved Latigo, I think…” 

As Ajna continued, mentioning such names like Yan with her acrobatic dancing, or how she finally is allowed to have a dog now with Lanshi since Indr was allergic, her voice noticeably lowered when she got one name in particular. 

“Xiboch, and…you know, Dhar…” 

Ajna rubbed her eyes, as if to remove a few invisible tears from her face. The idea of mentioning Dhar to her dad, the one who killed him in the first place, was hard to talk about. Dead or not, Indr was still her father, and to talk about this wasn’t going to be easy. 

“To get this out of the way, Dad…I admit, I’m still pretty mad at him, at least, I think I am….I mean, considering what he did to you, I’m not going to be thinking about marrying him any time soon….” 

Ajna’s small attempt at humor to lighten the situation failed, and she let out a cough, barely disguising a small sob. 

“He called you a degenerate for trying to fight back against Rav’s army….and I remember being so mad, Dad…that, that I wanted him to be laying next to you. His face would be all bloody and he would be begging me to not to do it, all of the words he’d say about you would be covered up by all his broken teeth…” 

Razmi had to admit, the sound of Ajna’s voice was…different. She’d seen her get mad- and believe her you knew when she got mad- but this time, she seemed almost disgusted by her own words, as if they were the raw bile she spit out past her teeth. But she had to say them, say them to someone who even in death could offer her counsel. 

“I…I wanted to just make him bleed, Dad….if you could be laying there bleeding, I thought what made him better to be standing there and not trying to keep his guts from spilling out of his stomach…!” 

Ajna let out a pained cry, gripping the side of her chair before letting a few tears rolled down her cheek. Fat, salty tears that burned as they went, fueled by fires of guilt and sorrow. Purifying like the fires to kiss your sins away. 

“Dad….oh, I feel horrible saying that. It makes me feel like some kind of monster to think that…I never wanted to think about that, about anyone…but would it be so wrong to have one moment in your life where you want to, absolutely need to?” 

Then, another sob, followed by a quiet sigh. Ajna’s hands were trembling, her fingers closing and unclosing like beating of her pounding heart. 

“But…but is it wrong to think that about someone now, even when I found out it was all a terrible mistake…?” 

“I told you before, about how Dhar found out he was being used, and that his whole life was one big scam by some insane warlord? Yeah, I guess I did…” 

The smell of cigarette ash and bread cooled, the air thick with the aroma of the smoke that tasted so bitter and yet so familiar to her. 

“I mean, when he found out…the look in his eyes. It wasn’t like he was faking it either. Just staring, staring and trembling. Like when I was doing standing over you….” 

Ajna began to cry again, her vision becoming obscured by the waves of little tears that stung at her eyes, reaching out to gently bring the portrait of her father closer to her. 

“He looked so…disgusted with himself, and then…then he screamed. He just screamed for five minutes, screaming and shaking, before he just sat down and stared into the sky….” 

“Does that sound like a bloodthirsty monster to you, Dad? Maybe, maybe he didn’t kill you because he wanted to, but because he was tricked into…does that make it any better though?” 

Razmi looked, through the glow of her lantern, the suckling flame against its wick showing the figure of Ajna shaking worse, before she fell forward, letting out a pained howling sob. 

“Does it bring you back?! Does it?! You always told me about moving on but…but how can I do that when the only person who told me that can’t even be with me?! Huh?! Huh?!...” 

The girl’s words fell away into a choked sob, a desperate weeping that culminated in a violent coughing. Razmi had always joked that Ajna was always so cool and crazy when she got angry, but this….this was something else. 

How Ajna pulled her at her hair as she muffled her choking cries in her hands, how red her cheeks got as if the tears streaked crimson blood, how her lips that always gave encouragement to even the stupidest things such as using a trash can as a sled or encouraging one of them to swim in the frozen water behind the house now trembled with incoherent sobs and babbles, how her voice choked and oozed out like the last gasps of a slit throat. 

This wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even fear. 

It was sadness. Pure, unbridled sadness. 

After a few minutes of crying into her hands, there was a pause. A still, slow pause, like those moving picture reels they showed sometimes in the iron Kingdom’s Museum of Achievements, but much smoother. An air of quiet, and the feeling of not tension, but sudden peace entered the dingy basement. 

Ajna sat now, her red eyes still dripping with fresh tears, holding the picture of Indr in her hands, letting her fingers rub against the glass just above the gently singed picture they recovered from Ashwat. 

She took a deep breath, and sighed deeply, letting her voice as meek and as gentle as a newborn’s escape her lips. 

“Dad…dad, I’m scared…I want to be angry at him, I want to get back, but…I know you wouldn’t want that…” 

She hugged the picture closer to herself- she could swear she could feel her father’s arms around her once again. 

“You always told me about how you can’t take revenge on people, unless it is for the good of the world. “If we all took revenge, Ajna, we’d be no better then the animals we herded”, remember that speech you gave me? I took revenge on Rav, and almost did something terrible to Dhar in retrospect….so, I guess I would have almost let you down there.” 

“I…don’t know if I should give him a chance. I mean, he did help us to stop Kala and all…so, it’s not like he tried to kill me after Rav…he even went back to Ashwat and found some of the old stuff that survived the fire…” 

Ajna shook her head again, placing the picture back on the table. She took the small loaf of bread, now cooled to a buttery shine, and broke it half, handing one half up into the sky, saying a soft prayer in some long ancient tongue, before setting it down in front of the picture and taking the other half for herself. 

As she chewed the spongey, buttery bread, she closed her eyes. 

“You know why I baked this bread? Remember when I “borrowed” a few pieces of bread from you without asking? And remember when I baked all those loaves of bread until you begged me to stop because we were running out of space? Heh, I guess…I guess I made it as an…I dunno, example, metaphor…Angwu would probably know, right?” 

“Look, I get it. Killing someone is worse than stealing 40 loaves of bread, but, in some way, Dhar’s trying to make up for it as well. He’s making his own bread to make up for it, even if it would take a thousand and one loaves to do it. I had my own sin to repay, and…doesn’t he now? At least he’s trying, right?” 

Ajna finished the bread, before reaching behind the empty bread tin and getting a small vial of wine- the wine they used in rituals for prayer and celebration, a bitter wine with a sweet aftertaste. Thanking Zebei for getting the monks to share a small sample, she poured her father a small crystal glass of the purple wine. 

Then, she took out a small canteen of ice water and drank it, washing the taste of bread and salted tears from her lips. 

Ritual or not, what would her father say about her drinking like that? 

There was silence once again. Ajna sat that, eyes closed and still. She took a deep breath, and let the scent of sunflower oil mixed with the dash of herbs wash over her. Her body remained still, quiet, calm, a far cry from the shaking wreck she was before. 

Despite all of Ajna’s hot-headedness, meditation was something she was surprisingly good at. 

Razmi found herself, from some reason she couldn’t understand, unable to speak. Even if she could, and she could since Ajna wouldn’t hear her anyway, it would be like spitting in the midst of a funeral, something so vulgar and obscene even if not meant to be such things ruining the silence and purity of the moment. 

The Spirit must have noticed as well, as Razmi could swear he saw him nodding in quiet understanding at her. 

Ajna, after ten minutes of calm collecting, adjusted herself, before letting herself speak again, afraid her words would barely be enough to match what she wanted to say. 

“I..I want to forgive him, Dad. I can’t be angry like that. It hurts, it hurts so damn much, but…it hurts even more when you let it control you. It’s like a wound, you used to say, the more you poke it the fresher it burns. It might always be there, but your body will grow past it.” 

“And, maybe, maybe Dhar and I both have wounds we share. Even if the blood spilled isn’t the same, it’s still a wound we carry together.” 

Ajna then took from behind the small table a small bundle of agarwood sticks, carefully taped together with fuse rope Jingfei had given her the last time they went to the Tower of Wisdom. She placed the sweet-smelling sticks onto a clay bowl, before taking one of the burning incense sticks, and lighting the rope. 

Razmi remembered showing Ajna how to set up a bundle of sticks to burn faster. Tripod, dry-wood, leaves and dry grass around the edges of start better. She never really asked why- due to privacy things and being distracted by the idea of her and Ajna making a huge bonfire- but now, it felt like she understood. 

And with that understanding, it felt like the whole thing seemed a bit more personal now. Ajna asking her to help with something private- her, a shaman who probably before would have told Ajna to beat it for even asking her name, and yet she wanted her advice to make this ritual right. 

Huh. 

As the fire burned the sticks and gave off the sweet smoke that erased all aromas from the room, Ajna folded her hands and prayed. Softly, quietly, without any show or emotion, just quiet, thoughtful, intense prayer. 

As she finished praying, she lifted the picture of Indr from the gilded frame, rubbed the singed edges in thought, before giving it a soft smile and kissing the forehead of her father, just as she did when she was a child. 

“I’ll try to forgive him, Dad. I will. For you…and for the three of us…” 

She hugged the picture again, letting a soft cry escape one last time from her voice. 

“I love you, Dad, ya old man. Thorani said she’d wait a thousand years for me, and…I’ll do it for you. I love you, Dad. Always and always…” 

As Ajna’s soft voice returned to its sweet, gentle nature, slowly beginning to tell her father about the plans of the upcoming festival she and her friends were going to, her eyes regaining their caring strength and composure, Razmi felt “Xiboch’s hand on her shoulder. 

Not rough, not in the way he and Hunoch would do when they got a piece of food and shoved it into their mouth, but gentle, in a caring compassionate way. 

“It’s time to go, Razmi.” 

“…I know…” 

Gently placing a hand on Bom, the Spirit held Razmi still for a few moments, before pushing her back. 

By pushing, it was more like suddenly moving his hand forward without ever moving his arm back. But, it felt like she was moving. Like she had been thrown back with great force, the air moving around her, pushing through her body as the pressure of motion overtook her. Her vision blurring as if the wind itself was blinding her. Her lantern swinging in her hand, the light flickering between orange smears of fire before, with a sudden thud, Razmi felt herself stop moving. 

Her head, Bom, was nuzzled in her pillow. Her body lay spread out, like a fresh scarecrow waiting to be stuffed with straw, and feeling as if she had just been picked up and dropped from the ceiling. 

And, at the end of the bed, was Xiboch- the Spirit of Remembrance- spinning his ball on his finger, his fur pelts of wolf, elk, and other beasts shimmering with sprinkles of light, his face with a somber, almost uncharacteristic face for someone like Xiboch of all people. 

“So…” 

“So what…?” 

“What did you think of all that, Brozami? I mean, Dhar, Ajna…?” 

“I…I don’t know…” 

“Huh? Here I thought you were gonna make some kind of sarcastic remark about Dhar being a crybaby or something” 

“Shut up, meathead. It’s just…just…I don’t know why I feel like this all of a sudden. Maybe I’m sick from you guys throwing me around…” 

“Maybe. Or…maybe you’re finally getting around to understanding why people celebrate this at all.” 

Razmi looked at the Spirit, eyes half-lidded by Bom’s shadow. She wanted to say something, call him a name, something sarcastic, or wave her hands and have a fire hex burn him to an extra crispy meathead. But, she couldn’t. 

She just couldn’t. 

“Look, yeah, Ajna was kinda sad with her dad and all, but Dhar was…was…” 

Xiboch chuckled and gave Razmi’s head a noogie, only to receive her trying to swipe at him with Bom’s- and her own- sharp nails. 

“Whoa, easy, bro! You don’t need to get all riled up. I’m gonna be heading out anyway…” 

“Fine. Great. Go.” 

“Aww, bro, you’re gonna miss me, I bet. Trust me, I showed you exactly what you need to know. And if I didn’t, well, remember this. “Before we are reborn, we must become one with our past, present, and our future, in order to see the life ahead”. 

“That’s probably the smartest thing I ever heard from any Xiboch’s mouth” 

“I know, right? Unless, you’re supposed to be one with your future to deal with the present…? Whatever, pumpkin, chumpkin, same diff.” 

“That’s not even…” 

The Spirit stopped her, before waving a hand at her, giving her a knowing chuckle and a smile. 

“Oh, before I go! Two things, okay? First, tell Hunoch he needs to put in more squats. He can do upper body day as much as he wants, but squats are king in the GAME. And, second thing…” 

The Spirit grabbed one of his pelts, ripped it off and tossed it at Razmi. The shaman barely had time to duck as the pelt hit her in the cheek. The scent of raw meat, cheap sports cologne, and raw meats and eggs washed over her again, making her gag. 

“Give that to that little farm girl, Nina or whatever her name is. Tell her she can’t keep raiding their hamper for their dirty clothes anymore.” 

The Spirit chuckled again, before giving his chest a pound, and flashing a V-shape with his fingers at Razmi, his form slowly fading away into the blackness of the quiet night. 

“Dueces, Brozami. Have a radical holiday. You’ll meet the next guy in a bit.” 

And, with that, the jock-ghost had vanished into the night. 

And, leaving Razmi alone with Bom, her lantern, and a cheap smelling fur pelt. 

Razmi sat in bed, silent, staring into the flickering flame of her precious lantern. The air was still, the house was quiet, and the room was empty. 

All that was left to do now, was wait. One more spirit, and the night would finally be over. 

Downstairs, in the basement, in the quiet darkness sat a table, bare, save for a small framed picture and two burnt sticks of incense next to a smoking pile of ash that was once agarwood. 

A shadow lingered for a moment across the table, hovered near the picture of Indr, and then slowly drifted away, leaving the soft sounds of a man’s voice chuckling softly in the winter night. 

“Love you too, Ajna.” 

And then, all went silent again.


	20. Double's Motherly Love

>Ever since Double “took in” a stray young man from the streets, she’s been acting noticeably different  
>Normal for Double is hard to pin down, since, well, she’s Double  
>But, for some terrible reason that even she can’t comprehend, she took in this young man from the street and has been raising him as her own.  
>While he isn’t as young to need, as Double puts it, “human things like diapers, or rattles”, he’s still young enough to at least need to live with someone.  
>It’s been alright raising him- in fact, Double is doing better than anyone could have thought, surprising even her!  
>While you’d assume the boy would be nothing but meat to the shapeshifting nun and would probably be devoured in minutes, Double has found him quite useful to the church’s needs.  
>At least, that is what she was instructed by the Trinity to do.  
>She’s done the normal parenting stuff, or the very basics. Giving him food from the church donations, clothes from the drives, and shelter in the form of a spare room in the back of the church behind the nave.   
>Double’s even gone as far to “properly anoint the boy with a traditional Trinististic name”, such as Cainas and Herod named from Trinitism heroes, Lycius from a “faithful servant of Lamia” and even Sod, named after a “particularly beautiful city Queen Lamia built in ancient times”  
>But, after Valentine suggests giving him something like a normal time “because even I’m not that cruel to do that”, Double finally gives the boy a new name  
>The name of Ezra.  
>Ezra likes the name, because it sounds a hell of a lot better than his old name, which is so embarrassing it’s best not to speak it.  
>Double allows Ezra to work around the church, such as copying texts from the Holy Book, preparing for daily services, and doing basic repairs like fixing the doors to the confessionals  
>She even starts to teach him about the ways of Trinitism proper, as she even admits that it would be no harm if there were more servants dedicated to Queen Lamia, and it would allow a more open bridge between herself and the human world  
>One of these things Double teaches Ezra in, is the seasonal values of Christmas time. Although, she explains it as “the time most men know as the Yuletide carries far back to the days of Lamia, and the miracle that occurred”  
>Although some of the teachings appear to be a bit complex, to Double’s surprise, Ezra learns quite quickly!  
>He is, however, a bit confused on who this “Sekhmet” person is and why they must be “crucified a thousand times over”, but Double decides it’s not the best time to talk about that.  
>One of the main things Double teaches him is the seasonal value of family, and the importance of it.  
>”Any man who rejects the love of their mother”, she explains, reading from the unabridged version of the holy text. “Rejects also the love of Lamia, and will be embraced in eternity in the rotting darkness of their selfishness and be torn asunder in the jaws of blessed Abaddon”  
>She also teaches him some fun rhymes and choral songs to help him remember!   
>During the season, she also keeps Ezra busy with setting up the church for Christmas. Wreaths on he door, garland on the pews, lighting the thousand candles at the base of the Great Mother statue.  
>If you ever asked her why she makes him work so hard, Double simply smiles.  
>”Why, to prevent him from falling into lust for material possessions, of course!”  
>But, in secret, she considers getting him something for the Christmas season, maybe something like a new winter coat or perhaps a personal copy of the holy texts, with included audio tapes for extra comprehensive religion!  
>Valentine, ever so sensitive, brings this hypocrisy up to Double.  
>”You know, for all your talk about wanting to keep the kid from being immoral or something, you really do seem to want to take care of him. Could it be you’ve finally grown a heart?”  
>”Haha, oh, Valentine! Combures in aeternum in tua superbia, tu uoluptatum wench, haha!”  
>Double, taking on various disguises, travels the city in search of a good gift to buy Ezra.  
>I mean, sure, over time she did come to look at him as a “protégé”, but a son? Pah! Barsh! Flimshaw!  
>But, still, it wouldn’t be bad to have something like a son, right?  
>Queen Lamia has Venus and Aeon, so why not have her own child to raise? An example to all other mothers out there on what a proper child should be!  
>And Ezra is a good kid, so maybe having him around wouldn’t be all bad.  
>After weeks of preparation, the Christmas service- one of the biggest services in the liturgical year- begins.  
>5 straight hours of Double preaching about the miracle of that first Christmas  
>5 straight hours of how ‘the whores and philistines were ground to ashes, how they clawed and howled in their filthy tongue as Lamia’s ascension turned the cities into dust”  
>Of how “the pure and the clean went to paradise, holding their bloody torn hearts to gift Lamia upon arrival, how they lashed their faces to match the wounds blessed Lamia wore, before they joined her as servants in euphoric bliss”  
>”Of how the betrayer Nefertu was lashed and torn asunder by flails, until her skin ran red in the desert, and her bones bleached in the New Sun, and all her screams matched the howls of her lesion-dripped followers”  
>And, of course, a children’s choir from St. Cecilia’s Boarding School- how cute!  
>Through it all, Double notices how Ezra pays close attention to everything, how he knows when to light the candles, when to drape the red over Lamia’s statue, and without even being asked, brings the Texts of the Seven Seals to be read and opened as part of the mourning hour of the Mass.  
>After the service has ended, and all the patrons are gone, Double goes to see Ezra, who is hard at work bringing the wine from the altar.  
>”You did wonderful work today, Ezra. I’m quite proud of how far you’ve come in your teachings”  
>”Aw, shucks, Sister Agatha! You taught me it all! In fact, I should be thankin’ ya for everything ya did for me!”  
>”Well, there is no need to thank me, child. I am only the instrument to Lamia’s will.”  
>”Come on, don’t be so reserved! I gotcha somethin’ just to show how grateful I am!”  
>”Now, there’s no need to…wait, what did you say?”  
>”Here! Stay right there!”  
>Ezra runs off, the young teen vanishing behind the door to the storage closet, before returning with a small wrapped silver box  
>Double is surprised-no one has ever given her a gift before!  
>She opens the box to reveal a small stained glass locket, the colorful glass on the interior of the golden locket forming a picture of Lamia, Venus, and Aeon.  
>In the deep disgusting bowels of Double’s vast and horrifying form, she feels something pulse with the emotion known as….thanks?  
>”Oh! Oh, Ezra, this is…this is beautiful! However did you afford it?”  
>Oh goddess was he selling Valentine’s medicines on the street for cash?  
>”See, back when I was living on the street, I did a few odd jobs, owed a coupl’a people some favors, and one of ‘em was a glass blower I did deliveries for. Once he found it was for the church, he got started on it right away! Glad ya like it!”  
>Double’s blonde hair almost falls from her habit in surprise as she puts it on, admiring how surprisingly nice it looks on her. She feels her cheeks getting warm, and she quickly composes herself before losing her form  
>”Well, I have something I want to give you as well, Ezra. A…token of gratitude, you can call it’  
>From under a pocket in her robe, at least what it would appear to anyone else, she hands the boy her gift  
>It’s a nice winter coat, with a nice warm fluffy interior, long soft sleeves, and a pocket-sized book of verses for him to read.  
>Ezra laughs and looks over his coat, trying it on for good measure.  
>”Haha, fits like a glove! Ah, thanks, Sister! You’re the best gal I know!”  
>And then he pulls Double into a hug  
>A hug that, despite her refusal to let any human even touch her robe, she finds herself returning  
>Later that night, returning from the catacombs and Marie, Double peeks into Ezra’s room  
>He’s asleep, tucked into his cot, and wearing his new coat still  
>Tiptoing, or slithering, into the room, Double smiles warmly at the sleeping young man, gingerly stroking his cheek with her warm hand  
>Another hand clutches both the locket and the cross around her neck.  
>She then leans down to softly plant a kiss on Ezra’s cheek, before whispering in her motherly eldritch voice.  
>”Cum harena Aeon currere arida, et faucibus Veneris proxima in hoc putredine mundi et Calvariam Cor purgat peccatores in os, erit mecum in luce beata Lamia, dilectus meus, puer"  
>Then, she reaches down, covers him with the blanket, and pats him on the head before slipping out the door.  
>Maybe being a mother would suit her just fine.


	21. Time of the Season Part 7

The third spirit came in silence.  
There was no lights, no laugher. There was no wind chimes or strumming guitars. There wasn’t even the wind to greet him as he arrived, only the sheer deafening roar of silence  
He slipped in through the shadows, like a single drop of darkness cleft from the space between the doorway and the wall. The way he slithered along the ground, leaving trails of black streaks with every motion, resembled something between a cross of impossibly fluid motion and inhuman herky-jerky jumps and shakes. He stood tall, straight like a soldier at duty, rather than the hunched over terror one would expect him to be, with long arms that seemed they could reach across the room without even having to move, and legs hidden behind his long flowing robe, where for feet only small dents in the carpet appeared. For a face, submerged in the almost impenetrable darkness of his robe, you could hear only the sounds of shallow breathing, rolling in slow and heavy pants. On his side, sheathed in a leather and silver studded scabbard, was an ancient looking hilt, covered in faded gemstones and long forgotten runic languages that were as old as the wielder itself.  
As the Spirit hovered just in front of the bed, switching between fluid swaying and violent spasms, he pointed a long arm at Razmi, its arm moving like a puppet’s barely held on by a few strings. The smell of ashes, burnt ember, and copper filled the air, like a furnace’s iron stomach being carried on the winds of the black vapors that dripped from the Spirit’s robe.  
And Razmi loved every moment of it.  
Black slimey stuff. Creepy gothicness. The way the Spirit flickered with a dark, pulsing aura…it was just what she was looking for!  
Forget the bright lights and the stupid jocks, this is what she wanted.  
“Oh. Oh my gosh. Yes….” Razmi giggled with glee, clapping her hands together in the same way Nuna did when she saw Hunoch and Xiboch. “Yes! Just…so much yes!”  
Razmi was thankful it was only just her and his terrifying ghostly horror seeing her do this, because it wouldn’t be fun to explain this to anyone else if they saw her acting like this.  
“Raz…mi…” The voice that croaked out from the Spirit practically oozed out of whatever it called for a mouth. It reminded Razmi of one of old Zhara’s old records she had, the ones beat up and scratched to the point the lyrics skipped, and especially of the even older ones that sounded scratchy even if they weren’t. Like a voice desperately trying to mimic human words, but failing to get the natural rhythm right.  
“It’s time to!”   
“Oh come on! You’re, like, the only cool ghost that’s actually a ghost!” Razmi reached back behind the bed, pulling out her “ectoplasm jar” from earlier. “I mean, look, you even got slime! Or, whatever that is! You can’t just make me leave without getting some!”  
Razmi grinned at the delightful idea of having her own personal ghost slime- oh, the possibilities! Frozen slime! Hot slime! Slime baths! Slime food! Slime in bed! Slime in…  
The Spirit let out what could only be described as a low roar, a sound that could loosely be translated to “Razmi!” again, between the scratchy jerks it made, before drifting closer to Razmi. The smell of burning copper and ashes seemed overpowering, but for what it was worth, Razmi thought it only added to the charm.  
“Okay, okay, what is it with you guys and being so unfun all the time?” Sighing, she placed the jar back onto her bed, lamenting how shiny and empty it was.  
“So, if I’m not wrong, you’re the Spirit of Rebirth, right? Like, all about the joy of being a new you, right?”  
Razmi chuckled, looking over the Spirit before her, who only gave a solemn nod in response.  
“Well, you know, I thought you were gonna be a little more…colorful? Just like the other two? I mean, for all the stuff about throwing a big party for a new year and new you, you’re kinda dressed up like you’re gonna chop my head off.”  
Before Razmi could gush with excitement about that, the Spirit shook its head no before looking down at the shaman before him.   
“It’s time to go, little Razmi…”  
“Little? Huh, seems like you’re playing the part of the big scary ghost pretty good.” Razmi pretended to be scared, hiding her face in her hands and “shaking”. “Ooh! I’m so scared? What’s the big bad ghost gonna do? Chop my widdle head off?”  
Ugh. Just saying the word widdle wanted to make her strangle herself, and from what she saw, the Spirit wasn’t reacting either.  
Instead, the Spirit reached down and grabbed at Razmi’s lantern. With one quick jerk, he tore it up from her hands, admiring the flame inside the thin layer of glass and iron that protected it, before Razmi just as suddenly tore it away.  
“Hey! No touching the lantern! Do you hear me?” No touching the lantern!”  
The Spirit looked at the lantern again, before looking back at Razmi, then reaching out to gently rub at Bom, his cold oily hands leaving traces of misty black to drip against Bom’s matted fur.  
“Okay, no touching Bom either. Look, do you have some kind of problem or what? At least the others weren’t this grabby…”  
Again, the Sprit looked at her, gliding around her slowly as if watching her for something. A single hand, dripping and shrouded with its inky black mist, twitched with anticipation, as if at any moment was about to reach out and grab her. The sword’s hilt glittered in the twinkle of the lantern, the ancient gold that formed it looking more menacing in the gothic glow.  
“Alright, alright, look if we should get going maybe we should do that? I mean, I already got through two of you so let’s get it over with”  
In response to Razmi’s dry, sarcastic voice, the Spirit stopped, before letting out a dry, cackling chuckle- a mix between laughter and a dry hoarse cough  
“You seem so fearless Razmi….so bold, so unafraid….you have no fear of the dark, of the future, of anything, don’t you?”  
That voice. Razmi could swear, past the cackling jumps between words, that voice sounded so familiar.  
“Well, my little darling….I know exactly what could make you terrified. If I told you, I know the outcome to every little choice, to every moment from the second you were born….to the second you take your last gasping breath…I knew….I know…”  
“What do you mean? Tell the future? Please, Ajna fought off a goddess who could do that, so if you think I’m supposed to be afraid think again.”  
“No. No, now is not the time to be afraid. That comes later.”  
“Huh?”  
“The fire rises, little Razmi. Or should I say…it falls.”  
“Falls? Wait a minute, hold on…”  
Razmi’s eyes widened as she realized what the Spirit was looking at- the lantern. Or more specifically, the little tongue of fire swirling into a column of flame inside.  
“No! Get back! Stop…!”  
For a moment, there was a moment where time seemed to stop, where in one moment, Razmi saw the Spirit’s hand stop just as it reached the lantern. How the fingers brushed against the glass, how the flame flickered at the touch, the black shroud almost fully washing over the slowly dying flame as it shrank as it touch.  
Raising her hand to push him away, to try and burn him with a hex, just get him back from the precious lantern, Razmi watched as her own hand fell into the robe. There was a feeling of bitter cold brushing around her fingers, like waving her hand through thick black water as it swirled over her digits.  
There was a crack as the lantern was knocked from her hands, followed by a loud smash as the lantern hit the wood floor. The lantern balanced itself for a moment, before turning sideways and skidding across the ground, leaving a trail of glass until it bounced off the wall. The flame held for a moment, flickering on the oil wick before suddenly dripping down into a few small embers that twinkled in the ruins of the broken glass.  
“N…no!”  
Razmi wanted to scream, to curse, to swear, to do anything but stand there and say no. She ignored the Spirit beside her and jumped towards the shattered lantern, if she could grab the wick and get the fire growing a bit more, maybe she could…  
There was no hitting the floor, no hard wood and broken glass on her chest. The smell of burnt smoke and dying embers suddenly faded away. The little flickers of orange dripped into the blackness that now fully engulfed the room, and the air as if instantly changed by the destruction of the lantern’s warmth turned a bitter cold. Even her words caught in the vacuum, and she could swear that even her own soul had been sucked out by the death of the lantern’s flame- Bom’s soul.  
The only thing Razmi felt, was the cold feeling of earth as she hit the ground, and the echoing numbness that overtook her body.


	22. Patty and Anon's Date

>In New Meridian, snowstorms in the winter are usually not uncommon  
>But when they do happen, there’s a sort of magic in the air that only is brought around when the time is just right.  
>Perhaps it’s the magic of seeing neon lights flicker behind a veil of white, leaving streaks of color against the fresh white snow, like a modern artist tossing streaks of paint across an unspoiled canvas  
>Maybe it’s the way the decorations look all covered in snow and ice, from the tinsel letter banner that stretches across the bridge into Canopolis covered in almost regal-looking icicle spires, to the colossal Christmas tree in Meridian Square, where on the fresh ice skaters spin and twirl to match the freedom of the falling snowflakes beneath the frosted tips of royal evergreen that sway so delicately in the wind.  
>Or, it could be the enchanting humor of hearing cars skid on the icy road, and the warm tickle you get when a cabby leans out the window, curses at another cabby in his twangy Mid-Canopy accent with its slurs and apostrophes and bangs the side of his cab with his greasy gold bracelet fist while you sip hot chocolate foam from a little café on the corner.  
>And speaking of cafes, you’re sitting in one right now- a little mix between a cozy café and one of those upscale bars.  
>And by upscale, you mean upscale.  
>Sure it’s not expensive or a place where they make the beer with grain harvested from the Dragon Kingdom and spring water from the private reserves of the Canopy Highlands, but it’s a cozy place.  
>Wood paneling, real leather booths, a stained glass mural of New Meridian in all its stylized glory, and a strangely comforting aroma of fresh rum and warm buttery bread fills the air  
>And even better, you’re here with your date!  
>Patty sits right in front of you in the booth, dressed in a cute pink jacket with black sweatpants. Her normally blonde hair is all hidden beneath a shamrock green hat, with little holes cut out for her horns to go through.  
>She’s busily looking through the menu, rambling off the drinks to you in between nibbling on the complimentary rolls.  
>”The Black Egret….the Fighting Peacock, I think Val drinks that…The Innsmouth Wharfworker…hmm, what do ya think sounds good, Anon? All of these fancy names…they’d give any proper lass a ‘eadache tryin’ to remember ‘em all!”  
>Patty giggles, crossing her legs as she takes a sip of her water. She looks around the place with those lovely purple eyes, inspecting the patrons seated at the bar or at the tables, or the people walking outside in the heavy snow.  
>It was your idea to come here on a date, since you heard how good it was supposed to be.   
>And, since Patty was a “drinkologist”, if such a thing existed, you thought it would be cool to bring her here.  
>Wood panels, all you can eat and drink for 30 bones, what could be better?  
>But, trouble is, since Patty is a so-called “drinkologist”, you’re a bit nervous.  
>Patty’s able to detect all the flavors in a single bottle of malt, from the barley front to the sweet hint of maple aged cask in the back.  
>So, you’re a bit nervous that you’d be seeming cheap, bringing her to a place with bad drinks.  
>Think of it like taking a chef to a cheap fast food place, or a classical music fan to a country music concert  
>Eventually you two decide on an order, just as the waiter comes back around with more bread.  
>You order a roast turkey club with house-made chips and a cola.  
>Patty orders a Meridian Tavern Crawl- a whiskey-smoked burger with bourbon sauce, bacon, fried onions, and chips on a soft pretzel bun, served along with a glass of Black Egret bourbon.  
>She has to use her ID, because of her size the waiter thinks she’s a teenager trying to pass as a kid.  
>She’s a little beat up about that, but quickly forgets about it when you, having noticed her looking a bit blue, decide to cheer her up by asking her about how work is going.  
>Patty immediately goes into a story about how she and Hallow made up this new game using rubber bands and some of her friend Holly’s spare syringes to play darts across the lobby during the slow hours.  
>And how her boss came in and shut it down, claiming it was totally “unprofessional” and “stupid” to be playing around with even spare equipment.  
>Patty does, however, claim that for the first time, she was happy when Christine came and butt in, because she managed to scrape 10 bones from Hallow in their game.  
>As you two keep talking, she shows off some of that famous Patty charm she can do so well.  
>Holly, when you met her, told you about that- how she likes to tease dates in the middle of public, just to make them get all flustered because there’s nothing they can do about it.  
>”Don’t mind her” Holly had said, using what seemed to be a glove with needles on it to make air quotations. “She’s just, what’s the polite word, uh…a trickster, when it comes to dates”.  
>The trickster stuff involves plenty of things- such as her slipping her boots off and running her stocking-covered toes over your leg, letting the white and green fabric and her cute little toes run up and down your leg or nuzzle your own foot.  
>Or she likes to get all flirty, resting her head in her hands and giving you big cute eyes, batting them as she coos out to you in her sweet accent, letting the words roll off her tongue.  
>”Oh, Anon, ya seem so quiet~! Is a little ol’ lass like me puttin’ the scare into ya~? I promise, I don’t bite unless I get some of the ol’ black stuff in me system! That is, unless ya want me to give ya a lil’ nibble, don’t’cha?”  
>And then there’s even what Holly referred to as “the cuddle-vice”.  
>A portmanteau of the romantic term cuddling and the word vice, which in this case means something that puts extreme pressure on something.  
>And what the cuddle-vice is should be self-explanatory.  
>Patty slips over to your end of the booth, pulls you into a gigan-strong hug, and cuddles into you, letting her head nuzzle up onto your shoulder.  
>You feel the air being shot out of your ribs, but at the same time, the sound of her soft goat-like purring teases your ear, and you feel a bit more relaxed.  
>Especially with the scent of peppermint perfume she’s wearing, which adds to the festive winter spirit.  
>When your food comes, Patty and you resume talking about work and life, although she still nuzzles happily to your side as much as she can.  
>She’s more than happy to hear you talk, especially when it comes to talking about your work.  
>Patty is more than ready to suggest getting a job at the clinic with her!  
>Nothing medical, but more like fixing computers, sorting files, doing repairs.  
>Not only would it save them a whole bunch of time, she reasons, but you also get paid to basically be with her.  
>She says this as she cuddles you up close, nuzzling her cute freckled cheeks against yours.  
>”Aw, but how can I work when you’re crawling over me, Patty~?”  
>”Everyone else handles it! In fact, Christine had to do a special meeting to talk about boundaries!”  
>”But…how can I be sure you’re giving me attention, if you’re running around giving everyone else gigan hugs, Pat~?”  
>At that, she gives a playfully indignant pout and then kisses the tip of your nose.  
>”Well, I’ll make sure to give ya the most special attention ya can get from little ol’ me~.”  
>Holding back your best Irish-sounding laugh, you return Patty’s kiss right on the cheek, watching as she gets all flustered and red like a little red dot.  
>The smell of bourbon mixes with the scent of her peppermint perfume, which puts you in the mind for a little romantic idea you had.  
>As you two finish up, you relax in the cozy booth just watching the people outside heading through the heavy, falling snow.  
>On occasion, you tickle Patty’s ears, making her “baah” softly into your shoulder, nuzzling her petite form more so into your warm winter coat.  
>You pay for the check, and taking Patty’s hand, walk out with her from the warmth of the café to the bitter cold, where instantly you two snuggle up together for warmth.  
>”Brrr, sweet St. Patrice, it’s colder than a witch’s tit out here…” shivers Patty, the little goat/gigan tightening her coat around herself more.  
>”Well, aye it is…” You say, putting on your best accent, although it makes you sound more like a common street drunk than anything else. “That’s why I got a little nipper o’ this…”  
>And out from your jacket, you pull a warm thermos, still steaming even through the lid.  
>”I got this up at the counter when I went to pay. Here, it’s called the Jack Frosty. It’s basically hot chocolate with spiced rum and dark chocolate. Thought you’d like it.”  
>Patty smiles as she sees the thermos, taking it eagerly from your hands and taking a long slow sip, giving a refreshed sigh as she lets the taste of rum and cocoa fill her mouth.  
>”Ahh~…that oughta put some hair on me chest! If I wanted to, of course.”  
>She turns to you with a wide smile, her freckled cheeks all rosy, her horns all kissed with powdery snow, and her ruffled blonde hair shimmers in the glow of the café’s neon lights.  
>”Anon, you’re a real agra, ya know that~?”  
>Now you’re the one blushing, and from how Patty chuckles at you, she thinks it’s pretty cute too.  
>”Aw, Pat~…you’re a real, uh, agra too! Heh, you know, I was worried you wouldn’t like our date tonight”  
>”Why would ya think that, Anon?”  
>”Well, I dunno, I just thought you wouldn’t like the whole place altogether. I mean, you’d think it was too fancy and the drinks would suck, you know?”  
>”Aw, Anon~! I had a great time, booze or not! Ya know why?”  
>”Why?”  
>Great answer dumbass.  
>”Because I was with you, ya chucklehead! I always have a great time with you! You’re as sweet as rum~”  
>”Jeez, Pat, when you get like that, I can tell the drinks are getting to ya.”  
>You chuckle again, opening your winter coat up to her.  
>”Why don’t you get under? Pretty cold out, and I wouldn’t want my little leprechaun to freeze her horns off~”  
>Okay, now, the leprechaun thing earned you a playful sock to the ribs, but Patty quickly snuggles under the coat just as happily.  
>And, sharing your rum hot chocolate, the two of you walk back down the street, fading into the crowd of people until soon, all that is left is a blanket of white snow.


	23. Time of the Season Part 8

In between the crushing feeling of frozen mud and air that she felt had been sucked out of her, Razmi could only notice that she was now outside again. If that wasn’t enough to let her know where she was, perhaps it was the sensation of thin ice pricking her back, where freezing water lapped at her legs through the cracks in the ice, and the smell of rotting wood, pond scum, and the occasional whisper of perfume from a half-wilted flower would be enough.  
Her body felt heavy, broken up and weighted down. Cold ditch water soaked through her clothes and stained her in patches of dark brown, where the bitter cold air proceeded to freeze them into little specks of ice that barely held onto her clothes. Her legs felt weak, wobbling limply as Razmi would try and move them, only for them to slip back against the side of the ditch where she lay. The taste of ditch water, brown and cold with granules of dirt, filled her mouth, and her cheeks were flayed red by the lashes of the night wind.  
Between the muddling flood of dream-like images, from the lantern’s fire dying out on the bedroom floor, to the three spirits seemingly whispering her name from every direction, Razmi groggily looked around, letting her eyes readjust to the darkness around her. Only the thin shades of moonlight provided enough light for her to see, at least enough to see the ditch she was currently laying in.  
“Ugh, son of a…” Too exhausted to even curse, Razmi managed to pull herself up, dragging herself onto the mossy earth on the side of the ditch. From here, she could see the forest around her, with gnarled black trees dead in the winter air, the vines frozen fast along their branches, and the thin traces of snow lightly dusting the miles of dead fauna in a picturesque white coat.  
A quick scan of the area, as well as ensuring Bom- a waterlogged and damp Bom albeit-was still on her head, Razmi glanced through the area, expecting any kind of presence, spirit or not, to at least be waiting for her.  
“H…hey! Spirit! Ghost! Hey! Where are you?!”  
For a second, Razmi considered how insanely stereotypical this was: a shaman who lived alone in the woods, screaming at spirits in her ratty, dirty clothes wearing a dead tiger on her head.  
But on the other hand, she was wet, freezing, and pretty mad so stereotypicalness be damned   
“Come on! Give it up! Fine, I get it, oooh you’re so scary Mister Spirit, please don’t leave me here all alone~!”  
Making a sound that she could compare to Leliani when she did that whole “rip and tear” business, Razmi did her best “I’m scared” impression, which was just her making a slightly upset face and putting her hands over her eyes.   
And…  
Nothing.  
Damn. She was sure that would have worked.  
Looking around to see if anyone was there, Razmi noticed something flickering in the trees, a little light that stayed out of the corner of her eye before just as suddenly fading back into the woods.  
It looked like a little orange ball, swaying gently left and right for a moment before suddenly going dark again.  
In fact, it kind of reminded Razmi of a lantern.  
Now, Razmi was a smartass- but she was a smart smartass. If she had to take the choice between, say, wandering the forest in her pajamas, or follow the light, she’d probably take the second option in these circumstances.  
With all the strength she had left in her body, Razmi walked back into the waiting darkness of the woods. Her bare feet glided over the slick rocks, jagged points teasing her soles with frozen points, while the twisted branches like crooked digits graced their tips across her skin in an almost bawdy way. The darkness and cold would have been pretty cool to Razmi, with the promise of all the cool monsters and cute things with the potential to melt your skin with acid, but something told her she had enough of the spooky ghost stuff for a bit.  
Her hand would lift itself up, as if to hold something up to her face, before reflexively lowering down. She felt naked without her lantern, cold and even afraid. The comfort of Bom’s fur on her own pale skin helped a bit, but the very idea of seeing that flame go out, the light of her friend’s eternal soul, made her shiver more than any amount of cold could.  
What if she couldn’t get the lantern fixed? What if it was too late to even try anything? If she had her old books, she could at least channel his soul into something for the time being, right?  
The air, colder now that she was reminded of the lantern, forced her onward, like whips to lash at her legs if she even dared slow down. The light snow that now teased her face with icy licks tried to hide away the flickering light, only for it to somehow grow stronger- a beacon desperately trying to bring Razmi some comfort.  
Eventually, nearing the light, Razmi could see a shape slowly building itself on the horizon. Not even a shape- but more of a lump, squatting just along the small opening where the trees parted to make a circular patch of long dead flowers and tall wilted grasses in the muddy swamp. The light itself seemed to flicker from the inside of whatever it was, and even the shape itself seemed to sway very slightly in direction to the wind.  
As Razmi neared the light and the shape, the structure began to slowly put itself together a bit more. Smoke poured out from a crumbling chimney made from salvaged stones from the nearby ruins, ash turning the glyphic into smears of soot. A tilted roof made from long strips of bark, held together by loosening strands of fragile vines and plant life, white snow leaking through the wide gaps to make dents in the already sunken wood. Windows either boarded up or locked shut lined each wall of the shack, and it was from one of these windows that the light poured out of from behind a thin veil of dirty blankets that was barely clinging to the frame. A warped doorway sank into the frozen mud, the door itself tilted and cracked, leaving whoever they wanted to come and walk inside. The whole place seemed to have just risen out of the ground, but even then it would have probably looked much nicer then this.  
And Razmi knew exactly where she was at first glance.  
It was her shack. Her old shack, before it got torched to the ground.  
But here it was. The old burn marks in the wall, the hole she accidentally made after a potion went wrong, she could even smell the aroma of slime still baking in the heat of the oven after that one accident.  
It did look much older, more rotting, more uninviting. Well, okay, it wasn’t like she was trying to be open to visitors but still it looked as if someone went to town on the place.  
Walking closer, Razmi ran her hand along the rotting wood, feeling the frozen splinters crumble off in her hands. The inside felt warm, the subtle yet present feeling of heat ruminating from the wood.  
Then, came the sounds.  
At first, it was a dry heaving sound, like someone coming up for air from deep underwater. This was followed then by the sound of what could be described as rustling around, then a violent wet coughing that reached a horrific crescendo before fading away into soft gasps of air.  
From inside the shack, the light flickered again, as if being shaken violently, and then as if on cue, the creaking door to the shack flew open, letting a slightly brighter stream of light pour out to illuminate the frozen earth before Razmi.  
Thinking quickly, the shaman reasoned she could probably find something of use in her shack, burned down or not. Fresh clothes, for a start. And if she was lucky, a new lantern that time permitting she could use to get Bom’s soul back.  
Razmi hurried through the door, letting the slight warmth of the shack’s interior wash over her. A much more comforting feeling than running soaking wet in the freezing woods. As she ran in, however, the light suddenly went off, leaving her in total darkness.  
Well, no big deal. The dark spooky nature of the whole thing would be a whole lot more enjoyable when she got a new lantern and some clothes. If muscle memory didn’t fail, she could do all of that even in the dark.  
“Okay…clothes were…to the left, by the bed…?”   
Stubbing a toe against the wood of a cabinet.  
“Ow! Alright…go to the right, then turn…wait, no…”  
Her hands felt something soft, something lumpy. Probably the bedsheet. Good sign.  
“Now that’s the bed…so the extra lantern would be just under it…don’t worry. Bom, you’ll be fine. Just gotta…”  
There was another flash of light. This time, it was bright enough to fill the whole room, blinding Razmi where she stood. The light pulsed and shined for a moment more, before fading away, followed by another sound of wet coughing and hacking.  
And it was then Razmi noticed what she was holding.   
It was the bedsheet she was holding, but it was what was lying in bed that surprised her.  
An old woman- no, not an old woman, an archaic woman. To say old would have implied a few wrinkles, liverspots, and lack of hair, but the way she looked seemed absolutely atrocious. Long, greasy strands of hair, turned a disgustingly sharp color of white stained with patches of earthy green and filth topped a head in which a barely visible face was. Barely visible as in the ability to see any youthfulness that once was- flabby cheeks that hung in grotesque flabs in which curls of hair kissed the sticky wrinkly skin, a crooked nose with nostrils caked in dried blood twitched and sniffed in clogged snorts, and grey, glassy eyes rolled in between shutting and wincing, like marbles barely held into the sockets. A mouth of rotting teeth that looked that would fall out to leave stinking holes at the slightest breath let out violent sounds of hard, dry coughs and sickening wet gurgles, gummy swollen lips drooling saliva onto the many quilts and sheets that covered the rest of the body. It was like a sick sideshow attraction- a head wheezing and spitting phlegm and bile as if crying in a bastard version of language.  
But, that wasn’t the part that truly shocked Razmi, that made her almost gasp with surprise.  
For on the woman’s head, laid a grey, matted, rotting tiger. Bones jutting in dusty jaggers through the mold-kissed skin, rotting teeth nuzzling the flabs of skin of the woman’s head, and a jaw barely holding by loose strings of muscle like a decaying puppet.  
“Seem familiar, Razmi?” came a dry, jumping voice, the cackling hiss seeming to pour from the woman’s open crowing mouth.  
“What…hey! Hey, Spirit! What the hell is going on?”  
A loud chuckle, sounding more like a recorded laugh, came from the shadows behind a decaying bookcase full of ancient, waterlogged books.  
“I said…doesn’t she seem familiar, Razmi…?”  
The old woman’s blind eyes rolled in their sockets, as white and as pure as the frost that blew in through the cracks.  
“Uh…she’s wearing a tiger pelt, like I am…” Razmi held her hand back, normally she’d be all over gross stuff like this, but to even touch the woman seemed wrong even for her. “Is…is this supposed to be me?”  
A slow, heavy sound of clapping and dry cackled answered.   
“Yessss….”  
“But…but…how? My shack burned down, remember? I went, er, was forced to go with Ajna, we stopped Kala, and now we live in a cruddy house out in Tai Krung country.”  
“Yesss…you did do that, didn’t you, dear? But…what if you didn’t, perchance?”  
Whatever Razmi was about to say was stopped by the violent hacking sound the old woman made. The woman jerked in bed a bit, before suddenly rising up out of the cocoon of blankets, where a scent of sweat and body odor wafted from the stained sheets. Long spindly legs swung loosely as the woman turned herself to move, bones cracking and rubbing as she began to move, where little grey toes kissed the myriad of crumpled papers that made the damp floor. The woman’s body seemed so sick, so fragile, hidden away under a second layer of sheets, much like how Razmi would dress normally. A shaking, shivering creature, hunched over to grab at a long dead tree branch to use as a cane, shuffled across the floor, dragging itself along in a blind, almost pointless, direction.  
“What? What does that mean?”  
A feeling of particularly cold air followed by the low tone of that stern, military-esque voice melted into her ear.   
“Well…let’s just say you never joined that little Ajnaaa girl…you stayed in those deep, dark woods, nestling yourself amongst the ashes of your cozy little hoommme…”  
“So? If I never joined up with Ajna, I probably would have kept moving on. She basically forced me inside her empty head of hers.”  
“Thaat’s what you tell yourself…and would always tell yourseelllf.” The voice dripped again, and through the inky blackness, Razmi could see the hooded figure of the Spirit gliding along towards the shuffling old woman.  
“And you told yourself you’d be ooookay out heeere….didn’t you?”   
A pair of black, gnarled fingers reached out to gingerly stroke the woman’s long white hair, the woman herself ignoring the shadow to reach a small warped cupboard. Wrinkly ancient fingers pulled open the door, yellow fingernails against a damp sack of what seemed to have been once fruit. Pale, flabby hands dug into the sack, pulling out a soft lump of what had been berries, before slamming the sickly sweet smelling rot into the gummy mouth.  
“Alooone, you and Bom…sounded like the paradise you wanted…right?”  
Razmi looked away, watching the old woman pile the fruit into her mouth. If this was her, what happened? Surely, if she could stay out here for so long as she was, it wasn’t like she was going to become this.  
Right?  
“Yeah, that sounded nice. Bom and I, the lantern…studying old books in silence. No noises, no people, no traditions, just Bom and I. The world didn’t matter. Kala could have burned the whole world down in sweet, beautiful, hot…”  
Razmi couldn’t finish. It was as if something deep inside her was telling her to drop the act. She looked at the Spirit, whose hooded face seemed to blend into the shadows that flickered against the wall.  
“Can’t finnish your sentence, little Raaazmi? Could it be that little faaacade you put on is finally cracking apart?”  
“Shut…shut up.”  
The old Razmi ignored them, having taken to the bizarre practice of rubbing the brown mush of fruit onto Bom’s rotting jaw, whispering incoherently to her friend.  
“Sooo you and Bom stayed out here….in the baking summers, in the freezing winnnters…building a little shack out of the ruins. The world passed you by…and slowly, even the idea of a weird shaman in the forest of Ashwat died….”  
The Spirit howled and cackled, before suddenly tapping the gorging elderly Razmi’s shoulder.  
“Yeeears went by. The forest grew closer and closer, and soon your world became only you and Booomm. Can you imagine just living out here, nothing but a dead tiger to keep you company? Was it the emptiness? Was it the lonelineeesss? Or, was it the years of staring into a rusting lantern, pretending the fire was the embrace of someone you loooove?”  
Razmi balled her fists, her face becoming a deep shade of fury as she heard the Spirit cackling again so cruelly. This wasn’t real- none of it was. He was just trying to mess with her, make her feel all afraid inside. She wouldn’t be scared by some stupid what if, it wasn’t real, it was just a trick.  
It had to be. It just had to be.  
“I said shut up!”   
There was another flash of light, and a small ring of flickering, scorching flame burst out around the Spirit’s body, briefly illuminating him for a moment before suddenly, the flames just as quickly choked out in the black mist. The Spirit let out another howl of laughter, grabbing the elderly Razmi’s shoulder again and shaking it to get the woman’s attention.  
“Hahaahaa! What’s the matter? Are you affraaid?”  
“Shut up! This isn’t real!”  
“Of course it isn’t! Because, do you know why?”  
“Why?”  
“Becaause…you made yourself new that day…”  
Another laugh and Razmi noticed the elder version of herself had stopped shoving her mouth with food and was now looking, glassy blind eyes blinking like fish eyes, at her.  
“You were reborn, even if you didn’t know iittt. The second you stepped inside Ajjjnaa’s head you were no longer the Razmi you once were!”  
“Sure, you miiight putt on that oh woe is me mopey face that can keep hiding the world away, but you and I know the truuth…”  
“Truth? What truth? That, what, maybe Ajna was the only one to accept me, to not drive me away like everyone else? The world made it clear they didn’t want Bom and I, so we…”  
“Threw the world away like a child, spoiled and crying with a stuffed tiger toooy. Maybe that’s why you threw away tradition, put on this cynical face and burned everything the world offered you until it was just you and Bom, rotting away together until your stinking flesh became one.”  
The Spirit pointed at the old Razmi, and then at Razmi herself.   
“But…when you met Ajna, you were reborn. You met someone who didn’t reject you, you met people just as strange as you, and even then they didn’t drag you to the pyres and set you on fire until they could serve you to the dooogs…”  
“Look, Ajna and everyone else…yeah, they’re…alright, for what they are, but would it have been so bad if I just stayed out here…”  
“Oooh…you wonder that? What it would be like to be a hermit, dragging her ancient corpse in and out of bed, soiling herself in the woods and talking to a piece of fur that would be better off in some nightclub in Tai Krunnnng? Weellll, why don’t you ask her yoursellllf?!”  
Then, the Spirit let out a horrible, hissing screech. The elderly Razmi, berry mush dripping down to meld into the stains on her chin and blanket, suddenly stood up, pointing a filthy crooked finger at Razmi.  
“Bommm?! Bomm, come on?! We got an….an intruder! Get ‘im….! Bring me ‘er guts…make me gut soup!...”  
With a same hissing screech, the elderly Razmi grabbed the older Bom from the top of her head and threw him.   
Because she was half blind however, she had missed Razmi completely, and instead Bom had slammed into the side of the wall, almost instantly bursting into a mess of matted skin and dusty cracked bones. A smell of rot poured from a missing eye hole, and teeth scattered across the floor like mice.  
Apparently, the elderly hermit heard the sound fairly well, and through her vision, saw the crumpled remains of her friend on the floor.  
“You killed Bom! You killed Bom! I’ll….I’ll fix him…I’ll fix him up with your pretty skiin….!”  
Grabbing the flickering lantern from the wall, the elderly Razmi lunged forward, bellowing a sickening war cry from her sticky jowls, her feet slipping on the damp earth.  
But, the young Razmi was faster and moved out of the way, quickly aiming Bom’s claw at the elderly woman as she fumbled towards her.  
“Bom! Burn bright!”  
There was a loud crack like lighting, and a stream of pure, almost water-like fire poured from Bom’s claw. The stream of fire instantly traveled just along the woman’s skin, before exploding against the wood of the crumbling shack. As soon as it touched, the wall burst into a shower of sparks, flames licking up along to the muddy timbers of the roof.  
“Yee---ooowww!” The elderly Razmi screamed in agony- although she was a bit singed, and not engulfed in fire, she was still touched by the magic fire and now bared a pink tint of skin on her arm that glowed a wet sticky burn of flesh in the new light by the fire. “Burns….burns!....”  
The elderly Razmi looked back, seeing the burning shack around her, and the pile of Bom’s bones and fur in the corner. Ignoring her younger self, the would-be future Razmi ran over to the pile and scooped it up, sobbing and growling in rage.  
“Come on, Bom! Let’s burn her too! Make her…aaggh…extra crispy! Ooww!”  
“Oh shit…”  
Razmi, having no time to be snarky, ducked out of the way as a piece of burning wood slammed into the ground in front of her. The left side of the shack was now totally engulfed in bright orange flames, melting the frost on the broken wood to create a mixture of steam and smoke that began to fill the room.  
Ducking back to the left, Razmi stumbled back out of the door, letting the cold air rush inside to greet the burning fire. As soon as the air touched the flames, there was a sudden flash, and another loud bang filled the air, followed by a column of flame bursting through a boarded-up window. From inside, the elderly Razmi noticed the intruder wasn’t there and had now barreled through the flaming shack to follow the rush of cold frigidness, until with a mighty crash she stood outside, howling and hissing.  
“Where are ya?! Where are ya?! Come back here so I can…I can….!”  
Her words were cut off by a vicious coughing fit, before fading back to that same mad howl. The remains of old Bom flailed in her shaking hand, and her body seemed to tremble even more with both cold and rage outside the burning shack.  
Razmi, with as much strength as she possibly could, ran off into the woods again. She could fight, true, but without the lantern, she do only so much. That crazy version of her had the lantern, and Kala knows what she was capable of.  
Feet against stones. Branches on skin. Smoke filled the frigid air, and howls mingled with the cackling of burning wood.  
That couldn’t have been her- a her that never met Ajna, that stayed in the woods forever, a her that had only her and Bom. No Ajna, no Thorani, no Tungar, no Zebei, no Baozhai, no Leliani, no Hunoch or Xiboch, no Ren, no Yan, no Zhara, no Latigo, no Lanshi, no Roti, no Phoebe, no Kushi, not even Dhar- potato or not.  
That couldn’t have been her. She would have never become someone like her- half insane, babbling to herself while eating rotting food, carrying Bom’s filthy pelt around like that.  
Sure she loved having Bom, but she would find a way to save him. All she needed was the lantern, and…and…  
To get home.  
She was so sick of running around, the spirits, the past, present, future. The pain of seeing the day the villagers attacked Bom, seeing Ajna beg her father’s spirit for help, even…this.  
She just wanted to go home. Insane people or not, they were at least people she could deal with. And they could help her. Just as Ajna helped her.  
“Havvving trouble…Raazmi?”  
The Spirit’s voice broke the nightmarish sound of screams and wind, and from the twisted branches of a fallen tree, in the frozen canopy of the forest, the hooded figure slowly emerged.  
“Y…you! Stay there! Get…get me out of here! Now!”  
“Awww…what’s wroonng? I thought you wanted to be alone…you and Bom…together foreveeer…”  
“Shut your damn mouth, I know what I said! Just get me out of here….I want to go home…”  
“Home? But you were just theereee…”  
“No, knock it the hell off! I want to go back. With Team Idiot, with everyone, with the noise and the traditions and the whole stupid celebration crap. I…I just want to go home…they may be idiots…but Bom’s an idiot too…and I love him too…”  
The Spirit laughed again. This time, it was a more familiar laugh, free from the warped hissing he made.   
A stern, proud laugh. A laugh of pride and discipline, of victory and strength.  
Reaching down, the Spirit withdrew from the holster his sword- a long, carved blade, dripping with black mist like blood in the moonlight.  
And as he did that, his robe fell from his face. And Razmi knew exactly who it was.  
Brown skin chiseled into a stern square face. White hair folded back into curls. Brown eyes above scarred cheeks. A pair of lips curled into a disciplined grin, and a voice that echoed with its intelligent accent and military speech.  
It was Dhar.  
Raising the sword above his head, Dhar shouted out to the heavens, his voice breaking above the sounds of howling, fire and snow.  
“Oh, by Heaven…may you find yourself at a better past, Razmi! May your rebirth welcome you as it did before!”  
And then, before Razmi could do anything else, the sword fell and the cold blade touched her face.  
All went dark.


	24. Time of the Season Part 9

Now, Razmi had only experienced near-death maybe once or twice (or maybe a few extra times, if you count all the stuff she did with Ajna during their adventures). So, she felt that she would probably understand how it would feel after Dhar- no, the Spirit of Rebirth- had just plunged his sword deep into her head like a tender roast bird.  
She just didn’t expect it to be so, well, warm.  
And wet.  
And smelling like chicken and old socks.  
And to be kinda panting in her ear.  
Razmi’s eyes opened, adjusting to the warm flow of sunlight trickling softly into the room. The empty darkness was replaced now by a vigorous light, the air streaked with gentle paintbrush smears of gold that hung in the early morning stillness.   
At least, she would see that, if Roti wasn’t currently licking her cheek and rolling over on the bed beside her.  
“R…roti?! Ugh, get off!”   
With a push, the tapir rolled off of Razmi’s chest, proceeded to lay still for a moment, stick out the famously long tongue, and let out a meep before sitting back on the shaman’s pillow.  
Ignoring the tapir spit on her cheek, Razmi looked around. The room seemed totally normal- no broken furniture, no mess, no sign that anyone had been in there. In fact, the only thing that was off was that the door was open all the way, and the sounds of breakfast could be heard going on downstairs.  
Her hair stuck up from beneath Bom, who still sat snug on her head. Her clothes were wrinkled, but not covered in dirt or mud. Her face felt whole- at least, not cleaved a part by some boot boy pretending he was goth.  
And the lantern, still hanging on its hook, burning gently with the warmth of an ever-present flame.  
It was over.   
Or was it?  
Quickly, knowing that if she would celebrate too soon something bad might happen, Razmi turned to Roti and picked up the tapir, looking into those glassy eyes, so full of wisdom and awe.  
“Roti, what day is it today?”  
A thought-provoking silence.  
“…Meep meep!”  
“What? Roti, what is Chris....forget it. “  
Placing Roti in her arm to carry him back down, a sudden noise broke the silence of the bedroom.  
“Ren, don’t do that with your sausage! We’re eating!”  
“Aw, what? Jealous of the sausage, Zeibabe? Well, if you meet me in the…ow!”  
“Thanks, Kampan.”  
“No problem, guv’!”  
The weird breathy tones of Ren’s “seductive” pants. The stern flustered awkwardness of Zebei. The rough accent of Kampan’s chipper tone. The smell of pork, vegetables, and fresh bread filled the air, a sign of a freshly made breakfast.  
Although she would never, NEVER admit it, the sound of the voices echoing down the hall made her cold, black, slime-encrusted valve called her heart twinkle a bit.  
With one tapir in one arm, and her trusty lantern in the other, Razmi jumped down from her top bunk and maneuvered down the hall, down the steps, and into the waiting kitchen below.   
In the kitchen, wearing their normal sleepwear such as Ren’s bathrobe and Kampan’s custom-made Iron Mouse shirt, Leliani and Thorani were busily cooking breakfast- fresh pork sausages, fried dumplings, sweet cinnamon buns, omlettes, and pancakes with sap syrup. Ren was between sucking down a sausage and rubbing a mark on the side of his head. Kampan was busily stuffing a stack of pancakes into her mouth, while her giant iron fist daintily poured herself from fresh juice. Zebei was pouring another cup of coffee for himself, fighting off sleep from waking up early for his early training.  
Thorani fixed her gossamer bathrobe and smiled warmly at Razmi, a tray of fresh mineral water squeezed from her hair in her one hand.  
“Ah, Razmi! Good morning, dear!” She said in that sweet motherly tone. “I see you’re up early. It’s only 9 in the morning, and usually you’re up by 1. And usually, you just stay in your room!”  
That smile, that voice, for a moment, Razmi was about to call her Spirit and watch as she teleported her back in time to the past. But the thought quickly escaped her head.  
“Uh…yeah, I know. Just kind of hungry, I guess…”  
“Well, sit down and eat!” Leliani’s chipper voice rang out as she cut through another hunk of raw meat. “There’s plenty of food to go around! I made your favorite- spiced pork dumplings, with extra hot peppers! Do you want Thorani to make you a plate?”  
“No, I’m fine…I’ll just have a couple dumplings.”  
Well, some food did sound good. And everything seemed to be normal- if you could count the sound of a ripper pulverizing meat into chunks while Thorani squeezed water from her hair into specially marked water canteens for everyone to sip throughout the day being normal.  
Sitting down, Razmi set Roti on his personal Roti Reclining Chair and grabbed a bowl of the dumplings, popping one into her mouth to let the spicy taste wake her up.   
“So…uh…how did everyone sleep last night?”  
She wasn’t great at small talk, but she had to do something to make the awkwardness stop.  
“Well, I slept terrible last night!” Ren protested, picking his teeth clean with a small dagger he hid from somewhere on his person. “Leliani’s fish last night gave me horrible nightmares. And not the good fun ones too!”  
“Yeah, what was up with dinner last night, love?” Kampan asked, grimacing in disgust at the thought of the whitetail they had last night. “Woke up in the middle of the night almost pukin’ me guts up!”  
“I’m sorry!” Leliani sheepishly circled her foot on the ground, hiding her face behind her sinew covered ripper. “The fish must have been bad from where we got it from! Next time I’ll make sure to make it even better! And if I ever see that Durani guy again, it’ll be open face up, er…what did you think of it, Razmi? Ajna said you ate every bite!”  
“Wait…Ajna was in the room last night?”  
“Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?” Zebei spoke up. “She went up after helping Yan set the candle décor up in the front room.”  
“But…but I…forget it, I mustn’t have noticed her.”  
Razmi’s mind raced with ideas, with explanations. Was it all just a bad dream, food poisoning from bad fish? It had to be- after all, she was alone all night and didn’t see Ajna anywhere.   
Yeah. Yeah, maybe that was it. Just a bad dream caused by fish. I mean, ghosts that look like Bom, Thorani, Xiboch, and Dhar? Going back in time? Sure she saw some crazy stuff on their adventures but that was ridiculous.  
A sigh of relief was just about to escape her lips when, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and Ajna’s voice echoed out into the kitchen.  
“Ugh…morning, everyone. Breakfast ready?”  
The response was Thorani laying a freshly prepared plate of pancakes, sausage, and omlettes down in front of Ajna, who quickly began to dig in as soon as she sat down. Her “I went to Mt. Sumeru and all I got was this lame shirt” shirt she got from Angwu was almost stained by syrup had any escaped her mouth as she ate hungrily. Greeting everyone at the table with a warmer good morning, Ajna smiled more as she saw Razmi sitting across from her.  
“Hey Razmi! Good to see you’re finally awake! You’ve been asleep since yesterday evening!”  
“I…I was…?”  
“Yeah! But all night you were tossing and turning, I could hear you all night. Did you get sick from Leliani’s fish too?”  
“I said I was sorry!”  
“Uh…no, no! Leliani’s fish was fine, it’s just…just, are you sure I was asleep? Like you didn’t see anything weird?”  
“Aside from the slime collection I found behind the bed, no. Is everything okay?”  
Great. Now all eyes were on her. What was she going to say? “Yeah, Ajna, I had this crazy trip with the Spirits who represent the Season of Life! Thorani was there, you were there, and I saw you crying! It was a wacky time!”  
“Just had a bad dream I guess. Nothing to worry about..”  
Razmi quickly focused on eating, thankful the subject turned to Zebei talking about what he, Dhar, and Latigo got last night when they were hunting- a huge type of creature that looked like a gazelle crossed with a fox, and Kampan crushing oranges to squeeze into Ajna’s glass.  
Everyone else she learned was busy. Yan was helping Hunoch and Xiboch with their footwork. Latigo was helping Zhara fix her oud, mentioning something about he used to play guitar when he was younger. Baozhai had Tungar help her go to the docks down the street and reinforce the Teotul for the winter. Naga Rider was out on morning patrol. Ginseng and Honey were with Nuna cultivate a rare breed of mushroom for tea use. Kushi was with Dhar, who was teaching her better usage of military training with Altun. And Lanshi was curled up on the couch, letting the snow melt off his puffy fluffy fur.  
Did no one know what was going on? It all felt so real, the sights, the sounds. Did she somehow learn all about that when everyone was somehow unaware of anything?  
After an hour or so of eating, Ajna stood up and brushed her clothes clean of crumbs.  
“Alright! I’m gonna head out to the market downtown with Phoebe to help her do some shopping for her kids. Anyone else wanna come?”  
“Sorry, Ajna, luksao! But Baozhai asked me to join her for lunch when she came back from the Teotul!”  
“I have to make lunch later, Ajna. Sorry!”  
“Sorry, but Kushi and I were going to get a, what is it called, a care package to send back to the monks in Lhan.”  
“I have training, and then a steam bath, if you want to join, Ajna~”  
“Oi, Naga and I are gonna fix up his ol’ motorbike, and see if we can’t get the ‘numatics on me fist unclogged!”  
“Uh…I’ll go…”  
Silence.  
“What?” Ajna looked confused, as if Razmi had just spoken another language and was crawling on the wall. “What did you say?”  
“I said…I’ll go with you. It’d be nice to at least get out of the house, I guess…”  
Ajna, and everyone else from Zebei to Thorani, looked surprised. From her sulky attitude, or more so, these past few weeks, Razmi wanting to step out and go shopping was quite the surprise.  
But, to Ajna, a welcome one. Offering her friend a smile, Ajna agreed happily.  
“Sure, Razmi! I’m gonna go get dressed, and grab a shower. You can get one too, since no offense, you reek like a dead snake.”  
Okay, getting changed was one thing, but the dead snake part actually kinda fit. So one of those things would be accomplished.  
Cleaning up, Razmi spend the next hour waiting for Ajna. She couldn’t understand it- on one hand, if ghosts were real and she spent the night with them, then that would make some pretty good bragging rights. But, on the other hand, she felt…funny. As if somewhere deep inside her, the idea of going shopping- at least just this once- didn’t sound as awful as it would before.   
Could she change? Could she really have changed? Or was the whole Spirit’s lesson show a waste of time?  
As soon as Ajna was showered and ready, they met Phoebe outside, and set off for the market place downtown. The market place was already being decorated for the celebration of Remembrance. Candles were in every stall and every window. Huge tile murals of warriors in battle captured in streaks of violet and silver, or cyan blue souls arising from a crimson landscape into a golden heaven were on display in the square. Public mourners in black robes walked the street, carrying statues and molds of loved ones to the temples on the outskirts of town, pushing through the crowd waving lanterns of incense. The air was sweet with such an aroma, the clay of the street mingling with the flowery incense they burned, and the mumble of street gossip mixed with choral prayers and hymns in ancient tongues.  
For some reason that Ajna and Phoebe couldn’t understand, Razmi was particularly silent. Not that being outspoken and lively was her thing, but she seemed more thoughtful, quiet, how she looked at the murals and mourners seemed almost as if she was considering something.  
Eventually, they arrived at a clothing shop, where Phoebe wanted to pick out a dress for her daughters, and Ajna decided to try and find something for someone there as well. And again, despite usually having a comment that Ajna might not be smart enough to dress herself, Razmi was quiet.  
“Alright, what do you two think of this?” Phoebe asked, holding up a bright yellow frilly dress for them to see. “You think she’ll like this? Or should I stick with a new pair of shoes?”  
“I think it looks great!” Ajna gave a proud thumbs up to the giant purple-haired woman. “I’m sure she’ll love it!”  
Razmi had no idea on modern fashion, so she gave her best opinion.   
“Didn’t you already get her a shield or something?”  
“How did you know I got her a shield?” Phoebe gave a puzzled stare. “The only person I told is Dhar and Thorani.”  
“Uh…lucky guess?”  
Phoebe looked at the dress again, before chuckling, tossing the fabric over her shoulder.  
“Haha, yeah, I bet you also would have thought I got a big spear too! Well, I would have, but it would have been hard to wrap. I think the dress will be a nice touch. Something she could wear outside of fighting.”  
As Phoebe walked over to inspect some more clothes, Ajna suddenly got up and walked over to a pair of shoes on a display shelf. A pair of black dress shoes, one that looked like they would be worn by a general or something.  
She looked over the shoes for a few moments before setting them down, pretending to look at a pair of dresses, frilly things Ajna would never wear, before looking at the shoes again.  
“…What are you doing, Ajna?”  
Ajna jumped, dropping the shoes back onto the table, as the shadow of her shaman friend slipped behind her, in that serial killer way Razmi did so well.  
“AAAH! Oh! Uh…Razmi, sheesh, stop doing that!”  
Maintaining her same dull and cynical stare, Razmi asked the question again, holding the lantern up as if she was interrogating her.  
“Uh…just looking at some new…shoes? My old sandals are worn to the straps, climbing mountains at a vertical angle at all…”  
Nope. Not buying it.  
“Were you looking at those shoes?”  
“…Yeah.”  
At that moment, looking at the style of shoes and Ajna’s sheepish face, Razmi knew exactly who they were for.  
“Are they for Dhar?”  
“W..what? No! Of course not….they’re, uh, for Potato Dhar! Yup! Old Potato Dhar would love some new shoes, hehe..”  
The look on her face could show anyone who was even remotely able to see someone’s face she was lying.  
That, and they already bought Potato Dhar a new hat to wear for the summer.  
“Ajna.”  
“What?”  
“Ajna.”  
“Razmi, come on…”  
“Ajna, I KNOW those are for Dhar.’  
Damn Razmi and her creepily terrifying ways.  
“Fine! They are for Dhar! It’s just…it’s just, I dunno, it would be wrong to not get him something. But, also, does he even deserve it?”  
Ajna’s brown eyes shimmered and she looked down at her feet in confusion, as if in shame for telling Razmi. She knew Razmi probably would say something sarcastic, or sing that stupid song she did to get under he nerves. “Ajna and Dhar sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G”  
But, to her surprise, Razmi only sighed and shook her head in agreement.  
“I think you should get them.”  
“What? You think I should?”  
“Ajna, look, I get you’re mad at him and all, but would being mad at him help you in any way?”  
“Well, I mean, he did kill my dad and…”  
“Yeah, he did…but did he do it because he wanted to? Or because he was ordered to?”  
“I guess…Rav ordered him, so…”  
“And, I can’t believe I am saying this, doesn’t he feel bad about what’s he done?”  
“Of course he does! He’s been trying to help everyone…”  
“Maybe, and oh Kala I can’t believe I’m saying this either, maybe…he deserves some forgiveness. You know, take a chance on him…”  
“Take a chance?”  
“Yeah, give him a shot, see if he has really changed…just like you did with me.”  
Ajna stared in surprised silence. This was the first time Razmi ever talked about Dhar without mentioning the words fire, slime, or turning him into a bug. And in that order too. Instead, she seemed oddly quiet, understanding, almost thoughtful in what she was saying. Just the way her eyes, normally so clear and dull, seemed to shimmer with some form of thoughtfulness and care.  
And normally, Ajna would think Razmi had finally snapped and everyone in a 5 mile radius would soon be burn to cinders, but the way Razmi seemed so quiet and poised made her think otherwise.  
“You’re…you’re right, Razmi, I should at least give him a chance. I mean, this season is all about being a new person and moving on…say, what’s gotten into you today? You seem less creepy and more…I dunno, caring. Which is creepy coming from you.”  
“Well…look, it’s just…er, what you said last night. About celebrating and being together and all that crap. I…I did some reading up on it, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try. I mean, the whole season is about remembering your friends and family and being a new person..”  
“I thought you said it was stupid?”  
“I did! And…maybe I still think it is. But, in the same way, I’m…I’m grateful for you guys. For you, for Thorani, for everyone. I know you guys drive to the point I could just take my lantern and set the whole world on beautiful fire, but….I would want you guys to be the last people I burn. Because I…I…don’t want to be alone again. I guess that’s how I’ll put it. If celebrating all this stuff means something to you, I can give it a shot too.”  
Now, anyone would think Razmi’s speech was a bit…insane, but in the same sense, Ajna found it kind of beautiful. Back on Mt. Sumeru, before Ajna had to leave, Razmi was so confused. Stumbling over words, seeming like she wanted to blurt something out but couldn’t find the words for.  
To see her now, talking at least about saving them if she was going to burn the world down, well, Razmi seemed to have change overnight.  
“Oh, Razmi….!” Ajna pulled her friend into a hug, squeezing her arms around Bom to pull the shaman to her. “That’s…oddly sweet of you!”  
“Well…ugh…don’t get used to it, okay?”   
Razmi let the hug linger for a second before pushing Ajna off. Ajna still kept that smile on her, warm, cheerful, understanding.  
“We’ll always be friends, Raz. All of us, I promise.”  
“I….I…you know what, thanks Ajna. Just…thanks..”  
At that moment, and a moment Razmi was grateful for lest she’d have to get sappy all over again, Phoebe walked up, carrying a few more clothes in her strong hands.  
“Alright! I got what I needed. You two find anything?”  
Ajna picked up the shoes and nodded, smiling at Phoebe as she admired the fine black leather on the dress shoes.  
“Yeah. I found something.”  
“Good! Now, let’s head over and try to find something for Kushi. Maybe a new birdcage or something? I think they sell pets down the street.”  
“Psst, hey, Ajna. What if we bought a couple of those slime-spitting lizards from that pet place? Like, the ones that could spit real far?”  
“Razmi, I thought you said I have to forgive Dhar, so why put lizards in his gift?”  
“…Who said anything about getting them for Dhar? I said forgive the guy, not buy him the coolest thing in the world.”  
Ajna smirked and pat Bom’s head, the dead tiger nodding with dead approval as the girl pat his smooth fur.  
“Come on, Raz. Let’s get going.”  
And, with a soft, but content smile on her face, and the knowledge that maybe, maybe this bunch of stupid holiday stuff may have a point, Razmi walked off with Phoebe and Ajna, hearing them talk about what else to get for everyone else.  
“Say, Razmi, it’s weird. I was looking for clothes, and I found this crazy wolf pelt on your bed. It smelled like something Hunoch and Xiboch would wear. Don’t tell me you and Nuna have been going through their dirty laundry together!”  
“Wait, what?”  
Somewhere, in the throngs of the port city, a half-finished mural of three Spirits in shimmering tile flickered against the frozen water of the bay.   
Almost as if they were smiling.


End file.
